A Sincere Letter to Writer's Block: @#*! You!

Another empty screen. Another empty piece of paper. Suddenly, all the words that were so perfectly positioned in my mind vanish into nothingness. The feeling I know so well for some weird reason, writer's block. No matter how many friends I lose, this one's always there. Like a fog slowly creeping into my creative outlets and slowly telling them to go to sleep.

Let's be real. Writer's block sucks. You can see that it does right here, reflected in the quality of my writing. What causes it though? Plain laziness and procrastination, or higher standards for what one considers "writing" (*cough* ScoopWhoop *cough*). Whatever may be the case, it just stays put like the Snorlax blocking your path on Route 12. Just there, looking at you, waiting for you to look away so it can pretend to be asleep, giving you that sleepy one-eyed look. Stupid writer's block. He's like that one guy you always want to get rid of from your life but there's just no opportunity to do so, so you just put up with him. Well, no more.

A good friend of mine believes that ideas can change the world, and this whole blog is a means to that end. Maybe one of my pseudo-philosophical ramblings will attract the attention of a "great thinker" and "change the world". So, here's the whole sincere letter to writer's block to finish it off once and for all, because even after you wake up the Snorlax you still have to battle it. When I finally get rid of you at the end of this, maybe I can be the "writer" I want to be so badly. 

You took away from me something that I took for granted. Something which I thought I was born with. That first night I sat at my desk staring at the screen to the keyboard and back again, not knowing what to write when the words that used to come so easily escaped me, like trying to hold water in my palms. God, that feeling of drowning in your own thoughts with absolutely no outlet, feeling absolutely lethargic and stagnant. Thank you for showing me that feeling, but screw you too. I don't want you in my life anymore. There's the door, goodbye! 

It still sucks that you stick around and I still feel you here, telling me that this piece isn't good enough to be posted online, to be shared on Facebook, to show to my friends and to be proud of as something I've created, because you don't just stop me from writing, you stop me from thinking I'm good at what I do best. Now, I tell you, my friend, who kept me awake on those long nights that I wanted oh so badly to write something, ANYTHING, that I am good enough, and to go [insert "applicable" word here] yourself. What's the worst that could happen?

Welcome to my blog, and thank you for reading. 
Fin.