The Precipice of Sanity

Writer's block drives me crazy. It's a long winded description of what I feel sometimes. Enjoy!

My fingers fell arduously upon the keys like the hammers within a piano � the words spilling onto the electronic page at an excruciatingly slow pace. My fingers froze and hovered over the keys. The cursor blinked, taunting me � mocking me for my lack of vernacular. My fingers moved towards the keys but never managed to find their way back to their original position. My head throbbed as I forced myself to think of an idea. A scream of frustration threatened to erupt from within me but was stifled for fear that I would teeter off the threshold of sanity. But my mind had suddenly become a well that remained untouched by water. Creativity no longer dwelled within the confines of my head.

I wanted to incarcerate myself in the solitude of my own world. I wanted a place where people couldn't bombard me with their callous and condescending words; a place where I could think without being eroded by other's self-absorbed opinions. I wanted � I yearned for � somewhere to be alone so that I could, for once, hear myself think. The lack of calm in this world drove me to the precipice of reason.

Abhorrence was all I felt. I wanted to barrage myself with insults of how pathetic I was. I belittled myself over and over again � telling myself that I had a lackluster, little mind. I was truly disgusted with my lack of ability to write a single word. I had managed to convince myself that everything that came out of my mouth was an atrocity to the human race. Nothing made sense and the words fit erroneously together.

But through all these personal obscenities, I was determined to break down this wall that barricaded my ingenuity. This battle was mine to win, not this rancorously malicious sickness that threatened to eternally staunch my creativity. It felt like torture � this formidable progression through time. I sat, an unwavering expression of determination displayed upon my face, focusing on the words that were yet to be written. This was all part of the excruciating process of defeating my perpetual enemy.
It was what seemed like eternity before I had the slightest idea of what to write. My once frozen fingers began to languorously make their way across the keys. Slowly, like a rusty contraption, my fingers typed out a sentence. That sentence slowly developed into a pathetic, drab paragraph. But, it was something. I was like a neophyte to the concept of writing, gradually conquering the beast that stood before me.

And finally! A stroke of genius passed through me like a searing bolt of lightning, leaving a zealous tingle that pulsated through by body. Never before had I felt such a fervent emotion. The words poured onto the electronic page as if someone had finally unhinged the floodgates of my imagination. A euphorically triumphant smile played at my lips as my fingers fluttered over the keys, leaving behind a trail of cleverly worded sentences and ultimately, drawing an explosive close to this report.

Author's Note

Please, please, please! I do NOT mind constructive criticism. In fact, I love it.