Skeleton's Closet "Writer's block"

if i continue to gaze it for another minute i know i would be falling
in love with it and God knows maybe one of this days i would finally be
announcing our engagement.

i stared at the paper and it stared back at me. I gaze at it intently as seconds, minutes, hours pass by. I know i have to write something. Its in my mind, its on the tip of my fingers but i cant point out what exactly i wanted to write.

I continued to gaze at the paper knowing that it will simply go on for days. Another sleepless night will pass. Another day of squeezing for my brain to pour whatever idea it has.

For a moment i stopped gazing at the paper and tried to turn my attention to the stock of books in my bed and looked around the room with all my things strewn everywhere. My room is the epitome of the word chaos. But i dont have the time to gather my mess just yet, i have to write first. I have to pour whatever it is inside my head.

For a while i tried diverting my attention to my plush toy that i always put beside me when i sleep. I have to divert my attention from the paper because if i continue to gaze it for another minute i know i would be falling in love with it and God knows maybe one of this days i would finally be announcing our engagement. i was gazing at the same blank piece of paper for an hour that half expect it to talk to me already.

i sat on my bed and took my paper. I laid it in my chair and looked at it while holding the pencil in my hand. I was determined to write. I have something that i want to write. Then it hit me again. Blank. It all went blank. For a moment i asked myself why i was sitting there and staring at a blank piece of paper. It took a few more minutes before i realized that i was there to write something. But what?

Writers block is common, as they say. Its a point in a writers life where he suddenly falls in love with his paper that he just sits there and gaze at it not daring to put a single mark that might just ruin its beauty. Seriously, writers block is one reason why i hate being a writer.

Its a point of temporary insanity. You want to write. you can’t sleep just thinking about it. Unfortunately everytime you face the paper or the computer you just find yourself staring at it not knowing what to write. Its terribly annoying it often drives me crazy. It irritates me to the point that i would suddenly snap at my friends or be sarcastic to the people who keeps on bothering me with endless questions.

It gives me nagging headaches and endless tantrums.It strains my temper and i easily lost patience.

Maybe that is why most writers are either eccentric or simply becomes loonies. The lack of sleep and the constant brain wracking could take its toll and become a burden. The writer then becomes a human volcano, with pressures mounting inside just waiting for the time to erupt.

So with the knowledge that i wont be able to write anything worth reading, i left my room and faced this computer. I gazed at it for minutes and started typing pouring out everything i want to tell my paper.

maybe later i will be able to write whatever it is that keeps on bugging me. Maybe later when i get back in my room. When i would sit again at my bed and face the chaos i created in my room. Maybe later, when i get home. later i will write something…if my bed won’t get in the way, that is.