For few days now my frazzled brain has run out of all the ideas and tuned off those endless chattering, debates, questions and arguments to seep in to “silent mode”. I feel helpless or utterly hopeless. I am sure most of the people who write would have experienced this but why. Why it becomes impossible to pen down few words however worst imaginations they bring out. No. Not even a single word. All is left, a blank white page and some undefinable pain in the throat trying to break that wall of confidence, individuality and my existence. It’s been days and all I do is watch supernatural like I have few days left on my calender or log in to facebook to check if dead people have come alive. The one thing I couldn’t do is write. I was amazed when I couldn’t even send text messages to my friends. Like all those words were at war, hence solitude for me. So, of course, having no options in hand I googled, “how to over come writer’s block?”. One interesting way to get out of this hell was by reading more. Surprisingly, I couldn’t read. Not novels, not text books, not newspapers, not even those FB story pick crap. I blamed it all on supernatural as it had clouded my mind and thoughts with ghosts and demons and vampires. May be nothing else seemed interesting or may be my writing days are wobbling towards its end. Honestly, I felt broken and even now I feel my bone is fractured which I am forcefully trying to bandage wanting to get well soon. Like it happened in supernatural, may be the Lucifer in my has risen shifting my life, my focus on a different path altogether. May be I will never get well forget about soon. Every day I sit in front of this gadget and force myself to type and end up saving it in draft unable to post it. Unable to even complete it. Unable to feel satisfied. And at night those half blank pages, sometimes completely blank, haunt me and taunt me saying I would never be able to write. Never be able to mend those bones, never be able to walk again, run or jump. I am crippled for life. Can I feel this way? Is it right? Is this blank page syndrome or simply termed as depression? Am I sinking low or loneliness within me in sinking me? I don’t know.
I enjoyed scribbling since my childhood. I wrote poems on rain, cow, nature and tore those sheets from my notebooks forcing people to read and say “very good”. I gave more attention to writing in my school magazines than my home work or exams. I wrote in every piece of paper available to me. I wrote poems about my teachers, got caught and was punished. Honestly, I never wrote to make fun of them but when there is paper and an interesting subject (and of course a boring class) writer in me took the front seat. Even today when I open my old school books I will find two or three poems in each or some short stories on broken heart. So, when I have spent my life doing this how can I stop now? How can I go blank, just like that? How will I be able to answer my childhood – “Sorry girl, you wasted your childhood scribbling in every piece possible. Now I have just switched off that channel” – ? But today I decided to write, even scribble. If this is my last stop then I got to pull myself from here to move on. I don’t want to be stuck in this oblivion. Not now. This is not my time to let loose and fall in the trap of fate.
If this is a fight, then it shall be. I don’t know if I am a good fighter or not but I will not give up smashing those dreams of mine. I will not give up on those happy moments of praise. I will not give up on hope and I hope I will get all my inspirations back to kick start at a new level.