my old friend

Just a blank page.
It’s not a lack of words.
It’s a refusal to be open to the initial inspiration.
It’s an inability to remember how it was done
so many times before.
It’s a paralyzing fear that the thing is gone.
No crush-caused ebullience.
No unrequited-based (relative) poignancy.
No heartbreak-induced gallows humour.
Only the word kryptonite that is indifference.
It’s self-imposed pressure.
It’s expectations echoing only in your head.
It’s silly, but powerful.
It’s a paralyzing fear that the thing is gone.
But, it’s not.
Just a blank page.

0 thoughts on “my old friend

  1. at least you write creatively about not being able to write. but by picking that topic are you feeding the beast?

    let me give you some suggestions:

    duck tongue dim sum. Seriously!
    offal restaurants in general.
    How great I am.
    How pretty I am!
    An invention you would like to see.
    Names of your future children.
    Places you would enjoy stomping like Godzilla.
    Creative ways to save yourself in various situations.
    An imaginary (or real) job interview.
    Badgers you have known.
    The down sides to living in a place with near-constant winter.
    How helpful I have been, and am in general.

  2. All of Sidewaysrain’s suggestions were hilarious.

    And you? Still with the perfect words even though you can’t write. Damn you.

  3. sidewaysrain: I’ve known many a badger. And I’m starting a new blog for discussing your awesomeness. It’ll be all Jen all the time. Near-constant winter? GRRRRR.

    clink: You’re just going to make her worse, you know.

    jenbun: Thanks! I likes irony.

    theselittlemoments: The glare off your ring always distracts me. *sniffle*

    hope: Did you just damn me? And thanks! (Not for the damning.)


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