forward speaking:

i've lost it, but i think about how much i want it back every single day.  i want to have words dripping from my fingertips again, not swirling around in my head, aimlessly, giving headaches that last through my bed time and straight to my alarm.  how do i determine where it went wrong?  notebooks filled with letters, stories, poems, and i haven't touched a page in years.  was it routine?  growing up?  student loans, annotated bibliographies, buzzfeed, facebook, twitter, endless, drowning social media/textual hell?

now it's time to cleanse.  time to find strength in my little index muscles, to work past hardened callouses on my fingertips.  i'm ready to get back to words, my closest friends, again.