The last time I truly wrote was in February.

I've opened blank pages since then.

Started things.

Abandoned them.

Wrote a few pieces here and there.

But not like before.

Not the way I know how to write.

What confused me the most was that writing has always been how I survive.

I write through everything.

Heartbreak.

Loss.

Disappointment.

Confusion.

If my life is falling apart, chances are I'm writing about it.

So when the words started disappearing, I knew something was different.

The truth is, the past few months have been a lot.

Not "a lot" in the way people casually say it.

A lot in the way that changes you.

I found myself standing at a point in my life where I had to make decisions.

Real decisions.

The kind that keep you awake long after everyone else has gone to bed.

The kind that make you sit alone in the dark for hours with your thoughts.

And I did.

A lot.

I sat with questions I didn't have answers to.

Questions about my future.

Questions about who I was becoming.

Questions about what happens when life doesn't look the way you imagined it would.

My head was full all the time.

There was always something running through my mind.

Something to figure out.

Something to worry about.

Something to understand.

And for the first time in my life, I couldn't write through it.

Not because there were no words.

Because there were too many.

Too many thoughts.

Too many emotions.

Too many things happening inside me at once.

I couldn't hold them still long enough to examine them.

Couldn't sit with them long enough to turn them into something meaningful.

So I went quiet.

Not intentionally.

Life just demanded all of my attention.

And when I wasn't dealing with life, I was trying to make sense of it.

Looking back now, I think I was expecting too much from myself.

I was waiting to write something profound while still trying to understand what I was living through.

Maybe that was never fair.

Maybe some seasons aren't for writing.

Maybe some seasons are for gathering the material.

For living it.

For surviving it.

For becoming it.

And maybe that's where I've been.

I don't know if this is a comeback.

I don't know if I'm fully back yet.

What I do know is that tonight I opened a blank page and stayed.

And after months of silence, that feels like something worth paying attention to.