Everything I wrote here is being written from subcjetive point of view, so it might not make sense to lots of you. But anyway, enjoy reading it.

I have added few songs with intention of showing my inside feelings while writting this. Enjoy as well.

What happens to a writer when he is not able to write anything with sense? Subject I wanted to touch today is something called "blokada pisarska" in my language, what could mean "writing blocade" in free translation. It is super frustrating, not being able to write anything, just because you think everything you have written is bad. Very bad. So bad, that you can not read it for the 2nd time by yourself. That is what happened to me a while ago, and this is my first serious attempt to overcome it.

Ever since I realised I can not write a single sentence that makes sentence, I started taking drugs, like, for real, in few days-long strings. I tried and tried to write anything, but still, any words would not come out of my mouth, tfu, form under my fingers. Even tho I am deeply depressed, this blocade I have encoutered started to depress me even more. To the point I lost a point of living, I just wanted to end everything, because, there was no reason for me to going anymore.

Quarantine has been f*cking with my life hard, and I just wished to get infected. I couldn't sit at home anymore, I couldn't go out, because of high fines in my country, I couldn't write about anything, because nothing was happening. It was like whole world stopped living. Streets were empty, people were locked in their houses and I was alone. Even tho I have two mates living with me, I was feeling more alone than ever. Because I couldn't talk with them (I live with a girl, whom I love, but she started to getting more and more distant from me than ever, and with her "boyfriend". What I need you to understand about this situation, is that no matter how close one could be with her, she will be always alone, no matter what). <--- And I guess this is the reason of my problem. I just can't stand the thought, I will never be able to be with her.

I have just no idea how one could overcome such an obstacle. Really. I just figured out, if I start spitting words about what bothers me, this problem will be solved out somehow. And I guess it worked out? I don't know, but the thing is that I have written something, even if it does not make sense to most of you. Cause in the end, it doesn't even matter, quoting one of my childhood favourite bands.

To sum things up. A writer touched with this blocade can be driven to madness or at the edge of suicide. To a point, when nothing makes sense anymore. And my advise to overcome that, is to just spit words about what bothers you inside, and maybe, just maybe, you will feel a little bit less empty. Like I did. This article was nothing more, than just saying what bothers me most. Love that I have lost. Or the love she rejected.

But it feels better now, that I have written to y'all about this.
And as always, lots of love from me to you, 
Scarecrow.