If I could describe what Writer’s Block was, I probably wouldn’t be stuck.
I wouldn’t feel like someone had just stepped on the back of my shoe.
I would be able to paint you pictures of seas and castles and fires and faraway beauties,
Not a blank wall.
Writer’s block makes me feel as though my backpack was caught in the door way, as I was rushing for my next class.
Writer’s block is the dragon that guards what I most desire.
Writer’s block is that monster in my closet that keeps me up at night.
Writer’s block is my worst enemy.
Writer’s block is trying to stand in the ocean and being knocked back down by the icy waves.
Writer’s block is a backed up pipe.
Writer’s block is running after the impossible.
Writer’s bock is…
When I cannot put my thoughts down coherently.
It’s when the headache starts.
It’s me, with my head in hands.
I am a writer,
And I am stuck.