Dance and writing are my outlets.

The two things that make me the happiest.

Two things I don't do nearly enough of.

Maybe that's why I feel sad, stuck,

Like something's pent-up, caged,

Because they are.

I haven't really danced or written in what feels like forever.

I miss them.

I miss the experience of being lost within the music or the lines on a page.

The gliding of my body through the air or the strokes of my pencil on a page.

I feel that I can't express.

Am I afraid?

Have I lost my expression?

Or simply my inspiration is dwindling?

Is my mind being consumed by the system?

Has the programmer in me killed the artist?

Murder in the first degree, she should be locked up.

The artist is well overdue her resurrection.