Writing was as easy as breathing to me.
I could write for hours about any fantasy I had and it was all so beautiful and precious to me.
But at some point the blank pages started to intimidate me.
I'd hold my pen as if it would tell me all the answers to any of my fears.
At one point my fears became the words that would fail me.
Suddenly breathing wasn't as easy as before.
I'd hold my breath and count the seconds hoping that at one point it would all stop.
My world would stop spinning and all I could think about were the poems I could not write.