I lost it.

I felt the urge to write while walking around the mall with my mom. I held on to it while listening to old songs in the car and mentally singing along. I held on to it until I reached home. It was then when I rushed to my room for refuge, when I lost it, unconsciously let it go as another deep emotion engulfed me. Everything was different. Things weren't in their usual places. All the secrets I buried in every corner of my room was gone and that horrible recipe of paranoia and rage made me want to vomit all over.

I had it right there, at the tip of my fingertips. The urge to write and pour all my thoughts out doesn't come easily to me. It's not everyday that I actually have the time to do so. Now, that I did have it, right there, way within my reach, something happens and I lose it. I struggle to get it back. 11:49 pm and still nothing. This is hopeless. If only I could turn back time and insert some twist in the past.

Now, I'm as uninspired as my conventional everyday self. That's not a good thing. I know when I wake up tomorrow, I'll be forced to deal with schoolwork. I won't have the time anymore. I won't have that certain pull in the gut anymore.