It isn’t writers block, but rather too much to write.
Direction is missing.
Focus is fuzzy.
Is this the time for fiction or the time to work out ones’ life and missteps?
Is this the time to rearrange ones thought to meet the future?
What time is it?
She can only doodle
all the gears in her head
are working too hard on everything and yet nothing.
It is a wasted piece of paper for her.
She writes anyway.
And doodles.
