It's not necessarily a "forgot" but much rather some moments feel as if they can't be reflected with words that putting pen to paper could mean I have reaped everything I can out of it. But no! I haven't. Even when I try to write about it, I wished I could have been more of Surafel. Or when I try to write I feel as if I'm around more inspiring moments that I'm missing out on them. I guess, to write means to forfeit on these seemingly animated epochs of life, both current and past ones. So much so, I can't guilt myself for missing out on them or having not indulged in them more. A blank page is a blank page when the pen isn't on top of it. A blank page is a blank page when the pen is somewhere else. Out there. Amidst its friends, its work acquaintances, its love, its mistresses, its foes. It's out there writing on them, writing for them, writing with them. It's out everywhere except here, on these blank pages.

#Struggling