You know flabb (sorry I love calling you that). I'm like this now. Back when I used to write (poetry), I was living and breathing it, writing if not 24/7 (sometimes even 24/7), then whenever I wasn't doing anything else, but I needed it at the time (mental illness). But when I didn't need it anymore, I seemed to be unable to write like I did anymore, when I think about it now.
I figured that once it had saved my life I couldn't write from my soul anymore, I had no need to, it seemed I could only write from my brain (does that make sense?), and it's SO frustrating. When I think about writing now, my interest is piqued and then my brain will cut in and change everything. Perhaps because I don't NEED to write for myself anymore, and I don't seem to be able to write for other people. Perhaps I was never meant to write forever.. *shrugs*. I dunno, I just felt you here and this came out...