A Writer’s Life

Here I am, pacing around the room like a maniac. Nothing was coming in. Nothing! A wall had etched its way into my brain. I was trapped! Just when I think I've seen a light of inspiration, it dies down and never returns. The darkness has been my companion, my very best friend. I ruffle my hair and stare at my laptop with a blank expression, arms crossed and brows knitted in frustration. Anger boils within me as a millionth heavy sigh escapes my lips. I stretch and walk around the house to know if anything will inspire me. Yet, my brain is blank. I feel nothing. Except for the wall stopping me from escaping. I retire to my room again and hit my leg on the bed in anger, but I don't feel the pain. The DARKNESS is the pain. I'm restless and wish someone will come to rescue me.

I sit on the chair and stare at the blank page again, it stares back. Then in my imagination, a grinning face appears, taunting that I will never win.

"Ha-ha!" It laughs with every pulse, "You don't even know where to begin!"

"Why can't you just leave me alone!" I scream.

"Leave you alone? Babe, I enjoy being with you." It laughs again.

"Who do you think you are? My boyfriend or girlfriend?!" I yell, getting up from my chair in anger.

"No. Your old friend, writer's block." It smirks.

I scream and hold my head with both hands. “No! This is not happening.” I mutter, gasping for air.

I have unwillingly let writer's block creep into my mind again, uninvited. It's gonna strangle me. I knew it! The darkness had replaced my senses with a paralyzing fear. What if I'm not a writer? What if I'll remain blocked forever? These questions linger in my mind.

"Ughrr!" I groan and plop down on the bed.

My Mama comes in. "Darling, are you alright? Finding it difficult with your Maths assignment again? I can help you." She smiles, but I know she's worried.

"I'm good, Mama. And I'm writing no assignment," I smile back.

"Alright then. Come down for lunch." She walks out and closes the door.

I stand up from my bed and walk straight to my laptop, still staring at the blank page. Why is nothing coming in?! I need to write!

"I told you, you can't win." The voice says again.

"Get out of my mind!!" I scream louder.

"Ha! Keep screaming. You're making me stronger. Don't stop fighting it!" It beams.

"I hate you!!"

“Ouch! That’s a strong word.”

“Get out!”

"You can't win!!" It laughs louder, its voice echoing in my head.

I grab my phone from the stool beside my bed and retrieve my headset from under my pillow. Plugging it in, I search for a soothing song that’ll calm my nerves and block my mind from the voice inside my head. But I am too agitated and pissed off that I can’t listen to the music anymore. Taking it off my ears, I drop my phone on the bed and sit down in front of my laptop. My readers are waiting for me. I have to write!

But it was of no use, so I slam the laptop and groan, rubbing my temples with both fingers. I have so many ideas, but they're covered in fog like a thriving city masked by mist. No phrase to pen it down. Panic sets in. Maybe I will never write again. Maybe no one will ever notice me. I wipe a tear that flows down my left cheek and take in a deep breath. No! I won't let it win. I have to break this wall that has trapped me in the dark. I need to search for inspiration that'll finally set me free. Out of here, out of this damn dungeon. Maybe a light will finally come to show me the way. Just one day. But that was exactly what I had said yesterday. And today nothing has changed. SO I ENDED UP WRITING NOTHING.