Itchy Fingers

I have a curious case of itchy fingers.
Nothing to say - yet my fingers itch to speak.
Writing has always been my first love - a constant.
Every time I wrote, I had purpose.
I needed to vent, I needed to create, I needed to impress, I had an end goal in mind.
I wanted readers to feel a certain way. 
There was an...energy that I intended my words to carry.
You read words, but in my head, I was writing a song.
For the first time - I really don't know what I'm doing here.
7 years back it came so easy - teenage angst makes for great writing material.
The angst is still there - its learnt to be a little quieter.
From a world of reckless, fun and careless drama, my theater suddenly turned into...an unnecessarily serious and high on consequences type of drama.
Perhaps I don't have the confidence to face reactions to a complete tell-all. (or do I?)
Isn't disillusionment supposed to bring relief?
This is really not a tale of tragedy,
Just some uninspired writing.
But - my fingers are still itchy.