It's gone! It's ran away, leaving me in the dust. Laughing, taunting, i told you so! I told you so! Gone. Someone call the police, fire department, scotland yards for all i care! I want it back! I am nothing now. Without it, i am nothing. I sit at my desk, staring at the lined paper, counting how many lines i needed to fill up before my time expired. Think, think, think! My brain is frozen. I simply hit and shattered a brick wall, my head aching from the intensity of the contact. I cannot believe this. It's gone. Scribbeling and doodeling are the only chances i have left. Heatrts, bubble letters, and the simple last name substatution of switching last names with the hottest boy in the class. This isn't helping. I search and search intently. I listen to the ticking of the clock and i warns me and yells in my ear, "Thirty more seconds!" Thirty. What am i to do? Should i simply cheat and scribbel at random? Twenty. Maybe i could write with really sloppy pen? That could gain me some extra time, i ponder. Fifteen. Chicken scratch throws up upon my paper. Ten. I bite my erasor, saying a small prayer for the sake of my grade. Five. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Zero. Writers block, if you are listening, you are my worst enemy.
My Worst Enemy
September 15, 2010