Indifference

So I feel like I have so much to say. Yet I sit down and stare at the flickering computer screen and draw a blank - with words (or lack thereof). How can I describe this feeling to you and be sure you understand it? I know my vocabulary isn't quite as elementary as it appears right now, and I've been known to convey my idea to another convincingly on more than one previous occasion - so what's the deal?

It's like...

...drawing a figure from memory or your imagination, and pausing at that intense line that forms the foundation for the rest of the creation. Or..

...raising your hand in class to ask that specific question that would clear up everything for everyone, and then stuttering with embarrassment when the teacher directs the entire class' attention to you, causing you to completely forget the topic of the query in the first place - not that it matters at that point. Or..

...turning on the TV because you remember that you wanted to watch something at three o'clock, and then finding you don't quite recollect exactly what it was.

And as I review what I've just written, I find it still doesn't hit home. It's like being sure there is one word that can portray precisely what you mean in the least time possible, and feeling it on the tip of your tongue - maybe even knowing what letter it starts with - and still struggling for hours, maybe even days, if you are as obsessive as I am.

~tangent: I just noticed I'm a fan of commas and run-on sentences. Forgive me.~

Well, I guess this random rambling will have to do for now. Eventually I will have something important to say (or write). The question now is: who will have hung on long enough to read it?