As I lie in bed writing this I feel an overbearing sense of nothingness, emptiness.. void of any emotion when normally I would.

Writing to me was therapeutic, calming progressive for me. But now..it's lost it's edge. I no longer feel creative, the desire to pick up the pen is gone and I'm back to square one. This was the one thing I was good at.

My fix wasn't taking drugs or getting drunk. It was pouring my soul into my work...and now....

It's gone...I don't know what to do.

I'm literally at a

loss

for....