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I have been staring for months now at my blank page unable to put together a stream of coherent thoughts to save my life.
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You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.

                                                             Jodi Picoult

I have been staring for months now at my blank page unable to put together a stream of coherent thoughts to save my life.

My mind just stays blank. There is no inspiration, no emotion. Just a long stretch of nothingness that goes on and on.

 So I tried to read more, Watch more podcasts or documentaries about the subjects I wanted to write about but nichts, nada, rien, nothing. The absolute void.

I have never been a passionate person by nature, but I am very argumentative, so for this reason, I kept myself well-read and well-informed but for the first time in my life nothing was breaking through this blank space which has taken a permanent place  in my mind.

I tried every method known to get past the blank page syndrome. Long walks, listen to music, meditate etc..

But nothing worked.

So I went to the self-reflection road. I asked myself what could have happened to make me feel this empty and surprisingly I found my answer.

It seems that the second lockdown has managed to do what the first lockdown has not done: it is to kill the last bit of fire inside me.

Being on my own has never been an issue for me. Despite people’s believes, I am not a people person. 

I like being on my own, I need the solitude to regenerate after being surrounded by people.

I have always embraced my need for my “alone time” but I have never been a recluse as it is so easy to topple from alone time to recluse if one is not careful.

I do not think that I have become a recluse between the first lockdown and the second but I cannot dissipate the feeling that I came very close to become one.

Trying to break the growing uneasiness inside me, I went out today.

With the lockdown being lifted, we are now all trying to go back to our life post-pandemic. I think that we are going to overindulge ourselves in this new feeling of freedom and togetherness that we have all missed. 

We are going to lie to ourselves that the languishing symptoms, we are all feeling, are just temporary and will pass once we are all back to “normal”.

But for now, no one want to acknowledge the fact that we are not going back to our life as we knew it before the pandemic. We will need to build a new normal. Maybe for once in our life, we will need to put back the human in the centre of the equation and not our greed and our bottom line.

We are going to pretend to be happy, to be back to normalcy for three maybe six months, booking holidays, going to restaurants, pubs, cafes etc., until the cracks start appearing in the mental armour we have put on to survive this year of emptiness we have all been forced to live with.

Nearly six months since my last post and I still cannot bring myself to be passionate about any subject.

I could be writing posts about the people who were crying for the end of the lockdown and were now unable to find anything better than killing one another.

There is after all an explosion of violence around the world since the lifting of the lockdown that the psychologists are  already calling it: the Covid effect as if we humans needed an excuse to kill one another. 

The cracks in our armour are coming out earlier than I have expected and still I cannot bring myself to feel anything at all.

Blank no longer defines  my incapacity to fill a  page with meaningful thoughts but it has extended to encompass my all being too.

I do not know when this feeling of emptiness that follows me everywhere will stop but I hope that it will be soon as there is nothing more disconcerting than the absolute void.

We, humans, are meant to feel and my inability to do so it is scarier than I will have thought. So I put a fake smile on and tell myself and the world that everything is fine, just dandy. 

So dear readers, until I am able to care , to feel  and not be this emotionless entity, I will be starring at the blank page on my computer with the hope that one day, an idea will form and hold so I can put my voice out there again.

Through the lack of attaching myself to words, my thoughts remain nebulous most of the time. They sketch vague, pleasant shapes and then are swallowed up; I forget them almost immediately

                                               Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea