Can't promise that I'll stay...

I'd like to believe that a little writer's block can be a good thing. Your inner-literary critic's way of gently letting you know you're really stinking up the joint. You're off track. Lost in the weeds. Need to go back and rethink things. Sometimes it's just a matter of temporarily writing yourself out. Life gets too fast, and you can't keep up. Like as of late, my steady spree of ramblings has become a sprint I am barely able to finish. Maybe the tank has suddenly dried up and I don't have anything more to say. I need to take a breather, but my mind doesn't allow me to. I have to find a way to let my subconscious work its magic again and hope that the words will come back to me one day. There simply is no other way.