Soul Nate

Sick

“ARG! THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING!”

I slammed my head down on the table and gripped my pencil tightly. I didn’t give care if I broke it.

See, I was trying to do math when all I wanted to do was write. It was quite hard to resist that kind of feeling.

The greatest agony is having a story untold inside of you.

Story of my life.

I gave up.

I shoved the paper away and prepared my writing station. When I wrote, I was usually there for hours.
I made some coffee, plugged in my headphones and started to type.

When you really have inspiration, you just let it flow, uninterrupted, until the story was formed. I had several stories of considerable length saved onto my computer, most of which were unfinished. Unfortunately, once that one rush of inspiration came and went, I was left hanging with nothing to go by.

Another thing I love about writing is that you can get lost so easily in the story you’ve created. You can make anything happen you want. I mean, I love to read and all that, and frankly if I hadn’t read so much I probably wouldn’t be such a fan of writing today, but the book is made by others. And while it may be their perfect world, it isn’t yours.

So there I was, lost in my own self-created paradise.

The next time I looked at the clock, almost four hours had ticked by.

Wow.

I sighed and stood up, stretching.

It was a late Saturday night, and once again rain was hammering against the panes.

I frowned, feeling sleepy, and ambled into the kitchen, deciding some coffee would really hit the spot.

After that was done, I leaned against the counter, staring out the window where the orange of the streetlights were illuminating the rainfall.

My apartment was clean, per usual, and for some reason my breath seemed to echo in the stillness.

I walked back over to my room and got dressed, pulling on my black raincoat and boots before hurrying out, locking the door behind me.

I was unsure of my destination, just letting my subconscious take over as I drove.

And when I pulled up in front of the familiar apartment building, I was a little surprised but I still got out, shielding my face as I clambered up the concrete steps and waited patiently for the elevator.

I knocked twice, three times, wiping the rainwater from my eyes and sniffling slightly, hoping I hadn’t caught a cold.

The door swung open.

Nattie’s hair was ruffled from sleep, and he was sadly wearing a shirt.

“Amy?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s almost three AM!”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.”

Looking confused, he stepped back. “Well, come in.”

I went inside, taking off my coat and shoes.
We were quiet, me sitting on the couch and him a cushion away from me.

“So…You’re here because?”

I sighed, staring as the TV cast flickering shadows around the room. “I don’t know… it wasn’t a conscious decision.”

He smirked. “How is that?”

I ignored his mildly taunting tone. “Well, I got into my car and I drove and I ended up here.”

He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I suppose… you can sleep here tonight?”