The empty paper

She was staring at the empty paper. It was screaming to her. Emptiness. Loneliness. Longing. She was staring at the empty paper. And saw herself. How she herself had been emptied of everything, without really knowing how it had happened. The empty paper used to be filled so easily, so quickly. With a small movement, and there it was. The thoughts, the pen, the words. The flowed like a creek in springtime. She used to have thoughts. Weird. Warm. Exciting. Challenging. Old. Familiar. New. But now they were gone. The emptiness have taken over. The words are forced. Uncomfortably. She stared at the paper. And without knowing when, or how, she knew. She knew that somewhere along the road she had lost herself. Focus had ended up in the wrong place. Fatigue that had taken over. Free time filled with forced rest to have the strength to deal. The brain is being filled with knowledge. But is not challenged with other things. She thought she was on the right track. She thought this was the big thing. She looks at the empty paper. And wonders where she has gone.