Writers block

Arghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just wanted to create because the blank white page screamed ‘F**k you!’. As I banged my head against the wooden desk that in turn shook my laptop I was hit with a sudden thought, a headache blinding with irony. I’d tried so hard to make sense of the story I wanted to tell that I had almost forgotten the importance of telling it in the first place, better to be misunderstood than disregarded completely. With this in mind my fingers were instantly drawn to the lettered keys like I had just discovered the secret code to unlocking my freedom. Perhaps I could put the sleepless nights behind me; perhaps I could find some solace in confiding in an entity incapable of judgement, other than picking holes in my grammatical errors. Of course I’d have to remain an anonymous author, which would mean forsaking any personal acclaim, however, on the other hand, if no one read my work I wouldn’t need to feel the burdens that came with embarrassment. As I’m not writing to be recognised, I’m writing to gain a level of self-importance, writing so that one day I won’t have to die in complete silence.