Of writing (oh! the irony);

My eyeballs feel like they’re going to burst any second now. The veins bulge, growing thicker, harder like the roots of a tree. The blood backflows, going deeper and deeper into the skull, reaching the core of my conscience. It freezes.

And my brain convulses, screams; it begs to be heard! It’s all coming down upon them, cells. They won’t stop! Familiar enemies and new foes, attacking the source of my creativity, striking when I need it the most. Oh, Murphy’s Law comes to mind (those two words got past the creativity killers, sometimes it just stays on the tip of my tongue, refusing to enter this world).

They are evil, striking when I need my creativity the most. They confuse me, hide the obvious, accentuate the unnecessary, cloud my judgement. I have known no worse frustration!

Ah, they win.

I live to fight another day. Tomorrow, they fall.


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