No amount of Reading or Surfing or Lounging can bring me to sleep. Some nights are like this, just like a thousand nights before. And this long spell of writer’s block is not helping either. So I just stare here at the blinking cursor, beckoning the grey matter to spew some much needed creativity.
It really doesn’t work does it. I silently thank God for MS Word. If I were with my notepad, I can imagine the sea of crumpled paper I would be wading in by now. Ah.. Writer’s Block is a pitiful thing. Like drought to a farm, stillwind to a sailship. And I thank God I don’t make a living out of writing, although I have wished one too many times if I could.
Thinking again, I realize the Poet in me is maybe still alive. No dearth for Rhymes, they even come to me in my dreams. Thank God.
Did’nt I just thank God thrice already? Maybe I should just go on and thank Him in person now, even if it is just to kill time.
Good night, world.