A bit stuck, completely

Here is me, trying to navigate my writer self, and myself, are they the same person?

I haven't written anything worthwhile for over 8 months. Now too, I am not writing, I am typing, maybe that’s why I am able to put something down. I don’t think I can handle the intimacy of putting pen to paper.

I prefer this, typing, it’s distant. I have given up on closeness. The closeness that paper offers so abundantly. Typing feels like I am slapping something lifeless with my fingertips. It works. I don’t sweat when I type. Even my fingers don’t feel each other.

When I write, my fingers clutch together with my pen and weave words. When I am angry they force themselves onto the paper, denting several pages before and after them. When I am happy, they draw circles, and leaves, and flowers. When I don’t care, they just write, on their own. Like pedaling a cycle, after you cannot feel your legs anymore.

It has not bothered me, that I haven’t written in a long time. Until now. I have a deadline coming up. And I must write. But I can't. Hope this is a start.