I (Don't) Want To Stop Writing

Tearing her eyes off the blank Microsoft page in front of her, she reached for the coffee beside her.

Cupping it with both hands, she sipped its content.

And grimaced right after.

Coffee's gone cold now.

Yeah she just noticed that the heat on the mug was gone.

Now that reminds her she's been staring at the screen for quite some time now.

Is it two hours? Or two hundred years?

No fucking  clue.

Excuse the language, thank you very much.

Still, no matter how loooong she's sitting in front of it, no single word could be found.

Not even a a fucking period.

Lo siento mi amigo, mi amiga.

Forgive the cranky old lady, maybe she's on her period?

No pun intended.

Oh..she said she's not on her period, she whispered it to me.

Menopausal stage, perhaps?

Oh she heard me. Busted.

Oh yeah I'm writing in third person then what is this first person doing here?

"Focus!" she said to me rolling her eyes I'm afraid it'll go out of its socket any moment now.

Now I'm talking to myself.

First person exit, third person now here.

Moving on.. How long had she been doing this lately?

Spending her time in front of her laptop but always failing to write anything.

She can barely recall.
Just the pain each time.
And she asked herself how long  will she endure it.

And now she's wondering:

How do you let go of the only thing you've always wanted?

Eversince she's small this was her dream. Not writing means the end for her. But now she's thinking to give it up.

Will she ever survive?
Well, she did before. And it's not a pleasant place she want to visit anytime soon.

Cue some Frank Sinatra song in the background:

...and now the end is near..and so I faced the final curtain...

Is it time to put an end to it?

Could someone, anyone please answer her?

Well. Obviously no one can.

But to continue and end up with nothing is like having a masochistic behaviour, she's deliberately hurting herself writing this.
And she is not. A masochist. Or is she?
Because she's still here thinking about stopping but still writing.

How fuck up is that?

Maybe because she have no one.
No one to talk to.
Well she tried but it seems no one wants to listen to her anyway.

So how to let go?

When she can't even let go of the dusty old memories that has been long buried but resurfacing from time to time.

Like when her pet died.

And the friends she'd lost along the way.
Even when it happened she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders and held the door, gestured them to fucking leave. And so they leave.

She never shed a tear.
Or so they thought.
But little did they know that in her alone time she's the mess no one will ever want to deal with.

Well who would want to deal with a cry-baby wailing like the ambulance's siren?
The wheeee wheee! Move out of my way you f---

Okay she's exaggerating.

Oh but she moved on from that guy she's been writing before. The slice, slice thing?

It's okay if you don't get it. Or did not read it.
This is all you need to know:

SHE DID NOT KILL HIM.

He's still alive and kicking. (Could she kick him where the sun doesn't shine, though? Just kidding. Or not. Let her think about it first.)

She don't know about you, reader who's still pinning over that douche who broke your heart, but the girl right here? She moved on.

Reason? Poetry.

But that's another story. She'll write about it if she choose to continue writing.

She suddenly thought about the line from Tom Cruise's movie "Mission Impossible "  matching it's signature background music.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept"

Poetry helped her in ways she couldn't imagine.

It opened a window for her to write again.

Like taking a detour. Different route but same destination- writing.

But she's greedy.

She fell inlove with poetry, no doubt about that but you know what they said about first love? It never die.

She wants to write stories again.
But it seems like she can't.
And she's beginning to doubt herself if she can do it.
If only it's easy like that Nike "Just do it" but it's not.
Well who said that life was easy? Show yourself and she'll slit your throat.

Continue or stop?
It's like choosing between the devil and the deep blue.
Continue and feel devastated every time she fails to do so or put the final nail on the coffin.
Be it over and done with. Once and for all.

Either way, not funny.
And both heartbreaking.
So what to do now?