I lost the writer in me.
My chest feels heavy, and tears threaten to fall as soon as I realize this. I'm lying in the middle of my dark room, staring at my phone as I read my favorite author's works. I aspire to be like him, but it appears to be an impossible dream now.
I'm not sure when it started, but it's been months, if not a year since I wrote even a simple essay. Every writing attempt I've made in the last few days has failed. I just couldn't feel the flame inside me anymore. My desire to write was extinguished in a single blow of I don't know what.
Maybe I lost motivation.
But one thing is certain: I've lost the writer in me.