Some days it comes to me more easily than other days.

I find my fingers putting up a performance, flying across the keys with nothing holding them back. Words and sentences are woven within minutes. In no time, I see a page full of thoughts; one that might not be perfect but isn't completely worthless anyway. 

On other days, it's much harder. 

It involves ridding myself of a lot of trashy ideas to finally claw my way towards the better ones. I find myself panicking very often; writing doesn't necessarily comfort you at all times. Many times, I give up and stare at the blinking cursor.

There's always something to write about. Sometimes, it's something obvious like the rains or broken hearts. Other times, it's something you have to look for with a discerning eye. But it's always there.