5 months later and I’m still attempting to structure my days.
I’ve never underestimated the power of a blank screen or sheet of paper to inhibit thoughts and constrict the flow of words. I haven’t written in months, and getting back into it after so long it’s like trying to recognize an unfamiliar face. With every hesitation, with every backspace, I struggle to get the right words out.
Structure was something I took for granted as a student. Days were organized by classes, assignments attached with the most meticulous instructions, and free time was at the mercy of professors and whatever leftover motivation was salvaged the night before. A lot of students hated prompts, but I actually welcomed them. I had a bad habit of wanting to entertain every possible idea, so any kind of constraint was for the better. I looked at instructions and deadlines as safety nets. Now that they’re gone, it’s as I’m left to tread water. Right now I feel like I’m once again in that situation; a little direction and some buoyancy would really be nice.
The blank sheet seems to stretch for miles, as daunting as ever and no edge in sight.
But I’ve been staring at white for too long, ironically paralyzed by a formless prison. I’m not sure what I’ll make of this but for now it doesn’t really matter. For now I’ll let the words flow.
This is my sheet, my fresh canvas, and I’m excited to spill some ink on it.