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That's the cursor. My hands are on the keyboard. The text editor is open... and nothing is being written.
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Thing is, it's really hard to be "inspired" and make use of creativity, tap into that muse... when you don't feel like you deserve it.
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I used to be good at writing. I used to be able to crank out the stories and poems and just... enjoyed it.
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But then I was accused of doing something terrible, horrible, no-good, and really bad. Then it turned out that even though I didn't know I had done it, I was the one responsible for it.
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I did my best to apologize and even try to explain (though I really had no idea about it myself). Then... the theories began as to the why.
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One theory was that I did it all on purpose, with forethought and malice, to have material to write about. Since it was known that I was a writer, this seemed to be to most... kinda plausible.
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I haven't really been able to write anything of substantial volume since then.
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It's been more or less a year. And it's not getting any easier.
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I've written some.
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But just not a lot.
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I've even tried to begin the reworking of my older stuff to see if that helped.
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See how much it helped?
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I'm not sure if I'll ever recover from this downturn.
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But I do know if I don't...
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I'll really never be truly happy again...
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It's almost hypnotic.
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The cursor.
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