I used to be able to write. I was able to compile large sentences and group them into paragraphs more often than twice. Now it seems an arduous task to contribute more than 140 characters to any singular idea. Moreover the idea of paralysis begins to set in. Am I unable to deliver witty banter and embed code? Will my hands weigh heavy of stone despite my will for them to move. I clamor to think of the root of this paralysis; some sort of disease, congenital defect or injury? I rationalize that the thoughts are simply gone like the moments before a blow to the head. Spilled on the floor from the resonance of a blunt object.

If I were blessed with amnesia from the injury then every possibility would be new. However we are cursed to be the observer.