I Hate Writer's Block

I HATE WRITER’S BLOCK

Writer’s Block. D*mn Writer’s block. I hate Writer’s block.

I hate it when I want to write yet my mind don’t.

At times, I write massively long and in deep examplary bliss. I am in really deep thought and ponder. I am drowned in my own island of illusion. It’s as if my mind left my body and went somewhere else and never get the way back. It was just right there, waiting for the right time to be called, but I’m not calling it, so it just really stayed there, dancing in an insane and lunatic way.

I ordained myself to write and my hand will just type in a feral alacrity. Never ending ideas filled my head and my hand will try to caught up with it but it won’t make it. But it’s okay, because my hand have typed enough informations and ideas for some certain thing.

And when I want to stop, my hand will persist writing and my mind will agree. Majority wins.

But today doesn’t count.

And the cause of this stunted and nominal disquiet was that. That TOOOOT writer’s block. I tried to muse my brain and myself on wherever and it does.

Or so I thought.

I was stunned and found my brain in here, jaded and banal. Why can’t I dive myself into my own pool of fantasies and illusions? Why can’t I drive myself in my road of sheer utopia and romance? Or at least make my self a novice Sherlock?

Instead, I am chained and tortured with this hateful blankness and naivety. My stupid brain, is in a state of absolute nothing.

But I guess that’s just the way it is. We’d experience writer’s block at times. Because of stress? Extreme sadness? I don’t know. But we just have to deal with it everytime.

And well, since I am simply impudent and rude in this awful anxiety, I searched it over the internet.

And found that there’s a cure on this obsulete misery of writer’s block. It’s free writing and ranting. And may I thank those two :)