I have a writer's block.
It showed up on my doorstep a few days ago, and it wanted to stay for who knows how long. I want it to leave, but it won't.
It follows me everywhere. When I wake up, it's always laying beside me. When I eat breakfast, it tumbles out of my cereal box, begging for attention. When I'm driving to work, it's riding shotgun. But these things don't seem to bother me as much as when it's sitting on my laptop. It stares at me, covering the keys so that it can become an obstruction, blocking my creativity. Its shiny, metallic structure beams with delight as it recognizes my frustration. I can't take it anymore. I must be rid of this stupid thing.
First, I try to throw it away. This was a terrible idea because it would always show up next to my bed the day after, its smooth front glazed with pride and contempt. I try to smash it next, throwing it against the wall, hitting it with a hammer, and even throwing it off the top floor of my apartment complex(six stories). It only grows stronger, heavier in weight and the edges sharper. It sits on the keyboard once again, and my brain is unable to spit anything out on paper. There is no physical way to stop it. I must try something else.
This something else is a certain something that I have only tried for emergencies, and this is, certainly, an emergency. So I swat the block off my keyboard, and I begin to type;
"Frankie went to the grocery store to buy roller skates, but they weren't selling the Eye of Sauron in the electronics section."
It was jibberish, sweet magical nonsense, and as I look over at the block now, I smile with glee as its edges begin to dull. I keep typing rapidly, sputtering nonsensical words and sentence fragments that damage that dreaded block with each asinine gem of a paragraph. But it still will not leave; the nonsense is not enough. So I do something I had never done before. My brows furrow as I begin to type again.
"I have a writer's block."
I turn toward the block, and it begins to crumble. I grin with delight, and continue.
"It showed up on my doorstep a few days ago, and it wanted to stay for who knows how long."
As I type, its metallic, square form transforms into crumbling gravel, and it falls apart before my eyes. Its pieces fall off of the table and bounce of my shoe, finally overcome. I am rid of it. I have destroyed the writers block by creating something from it, and what a simple weakness that was. Now it is gone, and my thoughts flow freely, and my brain can paint masterpiece after masterpiece onto the canvas once again.
My mind is finally free, and the block will not come back...at least for a while.
