Because words weren't enough.
They couldn't capture my aches, pains, joys, triumphs.
I thought my tears, screams and laughter were enough.
But they weren't.
I stopped writing.
Because I thought my words had fled.
I thought all the consonants, verbs, syllables and similes were lying dead inside of me.
Try as I might...I just could not write.
Each attempt to scribe my angels and demons felt like a chore...no pleasure to be found.
So I stopped writing.
And when I stopped writing, my voice locked up.
I suffocated my dreams, silenced everything in me that reached and strived.
When I stopped writing...I didn't even feel alive.
And I choked on everything that I imprisoned inside of me.
Thoughts bled into oblivion.
Ideas gestated but were stillborn.
But today I will type it out.
I will resume exhuming these figurative bones with my pen until once again...
I start writing.
And this time...
I won't stop.
I won't ever stop writing again.