Writer's Block

September 2, 2008
Every day, my words slip away from me, drifting further and further away into a meaningless void of apathy. Despairing, I watch them glimmer and fade one by one. My limbs are paralyzed and it is impossible to move, to cry out. Trashing against invisible bonds, I attempt to will them back to me. But it is futile. I am unable to breath in their absence and slowly my mind gives in to a painful numbness. There, I swirl in a whirlpool of monotony, wrestling with meaningless symbols and half-baked ideas. I long to climb out of this terrifying hole but I find myself falling like a fool, my fingers grasping at empty air, my nails clawing at nothing. No option is left untested in my quest for an escape. But before long the terrible truth is appearent. The words are gone. Gone forever. And in their void is a vaccum. No words. No melody. No purpose. I am one of them now. And I drift, a moribund imprint of my former soul.

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parkcityski said...
Sept. 10, 2008 at 6:13 pm
Wow! That was so heartfelt. I loved your metaphors. You are a really talented writer, even if you do have writer's block.
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