Another line

It seems silly how difficult it is to put my thoughts down into words. They build up, swelling like rice until they’ve absorbed all the free space in my head; and right when it’s about to explode and I reach for a pen, there’s silence. Screaming doubt echoes around my suddenly empty cavity, in which thoughts fought for space seconds ago. My hand shakes and I feel sick; I drop the pen and do another line.

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