I've never felt this kind of frustration before. It's almost exhilarating, or it would be if it wasn't pissing me off so much.
I have an idea.
No, not just an idea. Tonnes of ideas. Things I could actually do. I keep seeing things flash up in my minds eye. It is so clear. I can't do any of it. I know I previously said I could. Physically I could. Mentally, no. I can't get anything out.
Thing is I'm on the verge of something really great. I can tell. Unless this mysterious pressure on my brain is a tumour, I'm pretty sure I'm on to something great. I feel a change in my thinking, I feel a change in my attitude, I feel it in me. I feel really inspired. Not the usual kind where I want to burn down buildings and start up my own soicety that isn't a soicety, but genuine inspiration where I can actually look at things and put things together and take them apart and paint, and pencil and photography and charcoal all are dancing in a circle in my chest, shouting things at my heart and making it beat so fast. I'm so full of excitment and adrenaline. I don't want to loose this, but my hands are so confused and my head is talking so quickly that nothing is coming out right.
and it is very, very annoying. I'm so blocked, but some things are leaking through. It's going to be so great. I can tell, it would be, it would have so much potential. I need to write something ANYTHING. I know what the subject is. Why can't I find my own style, why does it sound so dry and trite every time I try and put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard.
Nothing in my stupid head works out like it should.
I can't loose interest in this, I wont loose interest in this. How can I? I don't even know what it is yet.
By the end of this summer I will produce something extraordinary. I will, will, will. I CAN.
I can, am able to and will.