To give you the extent of my writer's block...here's what I used to be able to accomplish

"I always thought the time would come where I would be faced with a situation that I couldn’t solve and the world would turn around and laugh at me. I never knew how soon that was until now.
I am not being scoffed at, only admired to a point, which is unsure.
No one is around to be weary of me…I am like the world unto itself
Talking is a special…or not so special talent I possess. It seems to me a shamble for me to waste my time when all I know is how my nose hurts and how I am in love with a man I hardly know.
Look at me, I’m not the fat girl in the corner now but mature, able to handle everything but my own imagination, which needs a lasso.
A tall confusion stands in front of me and I can’t do anything about it but get rid of the dark and quiet mystery.
I love you, I really do but what I have now is a man who could treat me like I was actually something and not nothing. Quoting Freud used to be a turn on, but now it’s a useless chore."

It doesn't make sense, but look at the wording, the metaphor! I can't do shit now...
The best phrase I have ever found in my writing was from two years ago:
"I don't cry over spilled words."