Lockdown

For the past few weeks, I have been trying to write on this blog.
I wanted to write about our family trip to sing,
I wanted to write about my awesome summer,
I wanted to write about my first week in school,
I wanted to write about how I am losing touch with the indie music scene,
I wanted to write why I am slowly becoming a technophobe,
I wanted to write how much I miss people,
I wanted to write about my goals and ideas,
I wanted to write how much the sky reminded me of how vague my dreams are becoming,
I wanted to write about how happy and sad I was,
I wanted to write about my artistic streak,
I wanted to write about myself and the world,
I wanted to write about change and how it affects my life,
and I wanted to write about writing.

Writing is an escape. A temporary halt to all frustrations and regrets, to all responsibilities and commitments, to all drama and silence.

If writing is an escape, and I can't write, then it is logical that I can't escape?

PS Imogen Heap knows how to make my heart cry.