Lately I have had such writer’s block. The only words that I can seem to produce in any synchronistic fashion, are through poetry, a medium I admit to being a bit unsure of. My inability to feel inspired by any essays that I begin is perhaps rooted in confusion…lately I don’t seem to know where to focus my attention.

Energy is moving in my world, and with so much action comes hesitation and some fear. There are times when I am so sure of who I am and others when I feel at a complete loss as to the true nature of my character. At these times I genuinely wonder if I am the same person on the outside as within? It seems that people look at me without seeing me whatsoever. Perhaps I am completely binary and only truly myself when alone and free to be bare, ugly, sloppy, tired, and strange. Or perhaps everyone feels this way?