I want to write a story, but my fingers keep hovering over the keyboard, indecisive of their next move. I used to consider writing my solace. It was one of the few things I took pride in. One would never find me in the midst of the athletically-inclined individuals. I'd usually be on the sidelines pleading a case of Aunt Flo to my gym teacher.
I'd dream up elaborate stories, drifting away from whatever was happening around me. My protagonists would be fearless with a thirst for justice, their sidekicks would be loyal and the antagonists would just want to be loved.
That was a long time. Now, I have become a shadow of the person I once was. The dreams which once translated seamlessly onto paper are now scraps of fabric lying around. The protagonists who would once walk around proudly with their heads held high now sulk in corners, waiting for someone to save them.
I've read articles, attractively titled ones too ("How to get over writer's block!" and "166 things to keep your spirits up!") but they don't seem to work. The ideas stay stuck in my mind, reluctant to make your acquaintance. My therapist says it would be best if i focussed on reality. Hence, I have decided to tell you this story. A story that is a far cry from the love stories that you're accustomed to.
My name is Zeenat K. Agarwal and this is my story.
