I'm Not Excited [DISCONTINUED; REBOOTED]

Writer's Block

New York City.

The capital of the world and... Busyness.

For Illyana Romanova, this was actually just her daily routine.

It included a hot vanilla mocha from Starbucks, checking her Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr more times in an hour that she even cared to count and typing like an idiot for hours about the latest musical and fashion trends in the city.

Today was no exception.

Illyana sat in front of the computer screen racking her mind over and over about her latest article, which she had no idea what it would be about. She huffed, frustrated at her lack of good ideas. The Arctic Monkeys? The Black Keys? Mumford & Sons? She'd already covered them all, one of them more than twice. She wasn't about to recycle celebrities.

Her job as a New York Times blogger and columnist was adventurous, exhilarating, to say the least. But when it came time to type... Well, her unnecessary writer's block kicked in big time.

"Maybe it's just a phase, y'know?" Illyana's best friend and assistant, Chloe, consoled.

She continued, "But it's for the best! Because, and I'm not just saying this because I totally love you and blahblah, you do end up coming up with magnificent articles! You tell everyone what the scene is like!"

Illyana frowned, running her hand through her wavy red locks. She pressed her plump pink lips together, as if pondering her argument. "N- No. I mean, I'm not sure. This is tiring me out. There's no one, and I mean, no one to write about. Everyone's been covered." Illyana sighed, sliding the chair back and getting up from it, walking to the other side of her neatly organized desk; the girl was a neat freak.

Chloe shrugged, placing her small hands on her petite waist. "Hey, what if you go hunt your muse back?"

Illyana furrowed her brow. "W- what?" She asked.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Go out! Enjoy the scene, take a journal, and write all about it!"

"Chloe, c'mon. You, more than anyone in this world knows how busy I am. Now, stop saying stupid things and fetch me the Times."

"Fine," Chloe said, putting an emphasis on 'fine'. It really wasn't 'fine'. The brunette Chloe walked out of the office, as her boss looked down, sighing again. She shut her eyes for a second, then opened them again, heading back to the chair behind her desk. Maybe, Illyana thought, Chloe is onto something. A small, very minuscule smile appeared on Illyana's lips.

She opened up a drawer on her desk, plucking out an old journal she'd been given years before, that, up to this point, she was hesitant in using. It held special memories for her, those of her 'nana' Sofia, her maternal grandmother. Nana Sofia had gifted Illyana with the journal as a high school graduation present, one that could be helpful in her later college career.

Sadly, Nana Sofia passed away less than three weeks later as a result of a heart attack. The whole Romanov family had been struck with tragedy, but none like Illyana; the two women were inseparable and so alike, that one could wonder if they were the same person. Since then, the journal remained empty, but at Illyana's side.

Now, Illyana decided, was the time she needed the journal the most.