Nothing and everything

How is it that I have so much to say and absolutely nothing to say, all at once?

Once upon a time when I used to write, the words punched out of my mind like a typewriter. Click-clack-click-click-clack. Out they would go, in tidy, neat rows, debossing their way onto blank pages. Filling them. Creating stories.

Now is much different than once upon a time. Now they float and whimsy and fling around the corners of my mind, unwilling to be cornered, the words like little stubborn eggshells stuck in a bowl of raw eggs.

I want to cry for them, these little eggshell words.