Some days, words rush out like a faucet that’s been left running. On and on and on and on and on and on they go. The words run, the water runs, it’s simple and easy.
Some days, like today, the words are stuck. The well is dry and it takes all you can muster to get even just a drop out.
The tides roll in, they ebb and flow. The waves of anxiety rush as the writing well has run dry for me today.
But then, I remember, that the sun will come up on another day. And I can’t help but feel the waves recede.