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She Stares

She stares blankly at the screen. The girl's hazel eyes stare at the keys. She wants her fingers with pink-painted nails to type, type, type. She wants there to be a flow within her. She wants something creative and diverting to burst out of her and splatter onto the screen.

When she was young, she could come up with any story. She would build an impossible world. Now, she stares. She stares at the screen hoping for a universe to come alive, but her mind only runs into a wall. It blocks her from her own gift. She feels as if any talent within her has been sucked out of her. She feels useless; she feels blind to the world of imagination.

Writing was the only thing she had. Writing was her only escape. She could go anywhere. She could do anything with her words, but now, she stares.

Hours pass by without words typed up on the screen. Finally, the girl stops her stares. She lifts her head to the ceiling and closes her tired eyes in silence.

The door bell rings. She wonders who could be here. She wonders who would possibly bring himself in front of her presence. She drags her feet to the door, but once it opens, she does not see anything. She does not see the green grass, the colorful butterflies, or the people in the near-by park who live their lives.

She widens her eyes and sighs, "I have nothing," but she had everything.



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