When writing loses all its meaning

There is a moment when writing stories loses all its meaning

a moment when my mind doubts of the usefulness of my gift

you had called me the wording wizard, but right now I am none

I can’t write myself anymore like I used to in the past, through fictional characters

and I can’t write entirely fictional characters because I’m still too partial, too biased, too introverted into my own feelings, my own wound

you once told me, how do you want to make up other personas as long as you don’t know yourself

and I still fail to see myself fully

I’ve already had this feeling in the past, it is the third time I experience it since I know you

moments when the mind says all what you’re going to write is nonsense

I could let myself be carried by words, by stories, by characters, without caring about the rational meaning

but there is no story, there are no characters, there are no words, so I’m left in front of a blank page with the whisper of my mind saying it is all useless, all untrue

I know it all is a doubt, and I know that by acknowledging it I’m doing another step in the right direction, toward the light

often the night is the darkest right before a new day dawns, or that’s what stories say as I’ve never witnessed it for myself

and right now I’m acknowledging the night has never been darker

waiting for a new light to shine and guide my heart