Writers Block 3.8

Ashlei Cox
Jul 25, 2017 · 2 min read
Like all writers one must drink.

Did you ever have to tell someone you love them and nearly self destructed in the processes? Originally I was going to draw but this question came and slew all thoughts. I might still draw I’m having writers block and a great deal pathetic doubt. I just can’t seem to do anything and I remain unreasonably exhausted. Someone quick go get my journal this type of talk belongs there.

And the wind was blowing perfectly and the sun was keeping one side of the face warm; loose pants, loose shirt: you can see the bra from the sides where the arms tick out, it’s pinkish-beige. Pale pink maybe? And she wasn’t adopted or anything and she wasn’t very smart or dumb either. She was fair at least, not beautiful-every character is not beautiful but not ugly either, they always seem to “really know words”. What can be done? The writer seems to really like this personality, the high risk of a nervous breakdown type. The type of character that after you spend all this time with you have a mild suspicion you still don’t know anything about them. This is called the half full character, sometimes known as the antihero. Neither overtly bad nor good etc, don’t use that in your English paper neither me nor the writer knows if that’s correct.

Coasting down calmly quickly coyly, Carmen’s cap leaped: lazily languidly laughingly, down the River Styx.

“So what are we going to do?” He asked. “What are we going to do about what?” She responded.

“I like you a lot, we get along, but you seem to be playing games.”

She turns away from him. The girl picks up Her hand, She tries to snatch it way, the girl holds it tighter and says: “Just relax.” At another time the girl will say, “I love you.” Then the time from that the boy, who is the boyfriend of the girl, will jokingly say to Her, “Our girlfriend is the worst.”

She turns back but there is no one there. She cries because there is such a relief in being alone.

The clouds were flat but also fluffy, they definitely belonged to July. An airplane in the distance is moving closer. The one neighbor plays old Spanish songs the other a mix genre of things, and again I have to pee.

Ashlei Cox

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