Inside the Writer Without Writing

This was me trying to write as if I was watching myself but also able to crawl into my own mind without being me. It was really strange to write actually.

Charming was the day when she awoke to find a pair of eyes blinking back at her from a large lump of white fur only to have it leap onto her head. She crawled back under the blanket not willing to face the world just yet. The large lump of fur did not appreciate that at all and began to tug at the blankets. She sighed knowing that at some point she was going to have to get up and there were things to do and none of them she wanted. Crawling out the other end of the blanket the cold air hitting her bare legs and arms. Sleeping in shorts always seemed like such a good idea until morning she thought walking to her scale. Would it be a bad day or a terrible day. Just a bad day she noted and headed to get a soda the lump of white right on her heels. She gave him more food and water even though he had plenty and walked back to her phone. 17 missed texts. Great thats exactly what she wanted to deal with this morning. Her fingers started flying over the keyboard doing her best to give advice as she walked out to the patio. Flopping down on the blankets again finally able to sit without being attacked by a fluff ball she started to think write.
Golden ribbons turned to ice
Eternity lost in a time capsule
Halting time never worked for anyone
Glory comes from finding in time
Power
To destroy and create
Watching it crumble
Fall to shred
Shatter like glass
UGH she could be so violent but that would never help her with anything. She drew huge slashes over what she had put. Next page.
Timeless beauty shone through
Moons rose and stars collided
Creating the perfect backdrop
Their shy smiles danced across their faces
He moved forward
She brushed her hair back
He tackled her
Together they rolled
The soft grass on bare skin
Their laughter filled the air
They came to a stop
The bottom of the hill
Emotion filled the air
Their breath showed in the cool night air
Joy.................................
Yeah not working either. She ripped out the page and threw it at her window. It had been months how could she not even form one poem, one page of a novel, craft a short story. Her lifes passion had been created on the pages. Beating her head against her notebook she tried to relax. It was so hard trying to write the way she wanted rather then the way she could. All she wanted was to write something that would touch someone rather then only entertain. A tale about magic and fighting bad guys and love that she could do without even batting an eye. It was the challenge to craft a true character who was so real that it would make you think they were someone close to you. Characters who changed each others lives as much as they changed the readers lives. Even just one character who was real to life while still holding that unreal quality was all she needed. The one story line that could never be forgotten. She'd tried every writing exercise in the book almost to break her writers block even writing her own life into what she wanted it to be but she always had part of her in everything she wrote. It was her connection. Maybe being disconnected was what she needed but not the kind of person she was and she hated changing for anything and if her writing was to be hers then she would need to stay her. All her thoughts jumbled together and she stretched out trying to think of her last dream that had any real meaning and missed how she never seemed to dream. There were thoughts as she fell asleep but nothing wonderful and incredible waiting for her at the end of her waking day. It was easier to stay awake and dream about the things that could be then just sleep and never think or see what might be. She did however suppose that time away from her racing mind might actually be good for her and she found herself picking up the pen again and drawing just lines. All different sizes and shapes then circles around and round. Drawing was no skill of hers by any stretch of the wildest imagination but she enjoyed the thought of being talented at something. A few hours to herself and what had she manged to do. Ruin several sheets of paper confuse herself more. She was reading more again that had always helped the words on the pages she longed to be hers and to have thought something so mesmerizing herself.
Longing for company pushed her back in the house to cuddle her kitten and then she crawled back into bed. Her mind exhausted her body or it might have been the lack of food she was never sure which. Away to dream nothing again she sighed tucking herself in. Maybe not today and probably not tomorrow but she would find exactly what she was looking for and when she did she would be whole.