Blank canvas, void of your own world, owning nothing but pure whiteness, I hate you at the moment. I sit here as I rip my mind apart only to find my own inescapable insecurity getting in the way of putting something into your blank stare. Though it's that stare that ignites the anger inside of me, turning me into an enraged dragon, a former shadow of my usual bubbly self. You taunt me. Mocking me and my incapability to let down the walls and just write.
The anger in me takes control as I slam my hands down on the desk and internally yell at you to write yourself! At least I have the capability of writing. The only thing you can do is sit on this table and wait for someone to fill you with words that can either change the world or break it. I on the other hand, do not have to just stare at the rational world lifelessly. I can go out and change it, with actions and deeds that can stretch farther than you can ever imagine.
Though, you still mock me. Staring me down and shaking your metaphorical head. You beast of irony, why won't you leave me alone and find some other soul to feast upon. I know I cannot work without you, for writing is my craft, and a writer without the beautiful gift of an empty world is like a musician missing their heartbeat. We need one another. So please, give me some ideas and I will fill you with the world that you and I create together. Something that will last longer than any deeds that I can ever perform or any money that I can ever give. For your ability to solidify history, to speak to generations to come, and to remind us of the generations of the past is nothing short of miracle, one which my mind anxiously wants to use.
But no. You refuse to help me. Is silence your only language? Is this writer's block I am wrestling with your only friend? I want to share my dreams, revelations, and experiences with the world but no, you, you keep me trapped here, like a bear caught in a metal trap. I am not yet dead but I am not free either, just stuck in the suffering of seeing the world unfolding and living without me.
Look, I could throw you in the trash, crumple your body up and cast it away, and never think about you again.
But you know I won't.
At the end of the day we both know that all of this complaining and moaning won't solve my problem. Throwing you away will not keep you from my thoughts. You and I both know, I have a paper to write and a deadline to meet.
