Tuesday, 31 January 2012


Have you ever experienced the frustration of not being able to do what you want to do, what you know you can do but aren’t able to. Like wanting to write about a gazillion things for days but can’t. There you are holding a pen with a paper in front of you and all you can do is stare at its blank state while your mind buzzes with a hundred words but you don’t know you to channel them through the pen in your hand. I refer to the traditional pen and paper because that’s the way I write. Writing directly on a computer feels....alien. I’m incredibly old-fashioned in that respect. Anyway, back to the topic. Only, I don’t know what the topic is. All I know is that I’m sitting here, watching people come and go, with music blaring in my ears to keep me awake, and scribbling meaningless sentences.
While I stare at the messy page with useless scribbling and many cut-offs, I get articles from several people, who’ve written with such flawless ease that it’s envious. The frustration is almost spilling now, more because of the fact that I don’t know what’s stopping me.
Writing is my expression. Whatever I feel it comes down on the paper. And now I’m frustrated but I can’t take it out because my pen refuses to ink anything comprehensive. I don’t know what I’ve done above. All I know is that, at the moment, I feel completely useless. And I can’t explain why. Maybe someone’s done black magic on me so I can’t write anymore. Maybe it’s PMS. Or maybe it’s just an infuriating writer’s block.

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