Letting your muse fade away is not less than having a miscarriage. It feels like losing a child before it has stepped into this world. You build dreams over it, the dream of bringing it to life and nurturing it, the dream of finding yourself through it and see it turn into a fully grown being.
I’ve been going through the same trauma since months now. Desperate enough to write at least a line, I used to sit down every night in search of words that could lend shape to the thought that struck my mind during the day. To my dismay I ended up losing the muse altogether.
I wonder if being obsessed with perfection or the chaos inside is responsible for holding back what deserves to have an identity of its own.