Why Has It Been So Hard To Write Lately?

Why has it been so hard to write lately? That is a timeless literary question, asked by countless authors and writers over innumerable centuries. Yet its definitive answer escapes me. In my head, I have written many posts for this blog - it's just that none of them have landed on paper. In my heart, I have written many poems and conjured many stories, and yet, they fail to be expressed in ink, but only in the ephemeral thoughts of a frustrated, aspiring writer.

I have been busy - how often do we all say that? How busy are we? Well, sometimes we are REALLY busy, and the absolute literal meaning of the phrase applies. However, sometimes, we have simply chosen to spend our time otherwise, even though it was not required that we do so. I am guilty of this very thing, if guilt is something that should be assigned to me for choosing to do things other than write. Yet to deny writing is to deny myself - trite as that may sound. I am denying something that is essential to my survival. Oh, alright, survival is too melodramatic. How about that writing is essential to the full expression of ME? To the full experience of life for ME? That writing is a release, and a necessary release at that? And now, I fear, I am lost in a complex labyrinth of philosophical and introspective meanderings. But so be it.

Isn't it the "stuff of life" that answers are not easy to come by, and what we think we NEED to do, HAVE to do, we DON'T do?

You tell me. But I have done it. Alas, I have written SOMETHING. And now I must do my very necessary etymological research to discover the meaning of "alas."