Inspiration

Inspiration1

It was all the same.  Random black symbols stuck to a white background.  Sometimes the black trailed on for a while, and sometimes it was cut short, but either way, it was all the same.  Page after page of my work flashed before me, fading into one another.  Even the basic outcome of my stories was near similar: darkness, being forever trapped within something, loss, agony, fear, death.  It was all the same.2

My voice came in a frustrated sigh.  “Damn…  Why can’t I ever seem to write anything but angst and horror?”  I slumped back into my chair, the whole thing rocking back and forth under the pressure of my weight.  It continued to bounce as I hastily bobbed my foot, my eyes raised from my binder.  I sat up and repositioned myself to begin writing a new piece, but I found myself glaring at the computer screen like it would magically inspire me.  Another bothered sigh erupted from my chest, and I began typing the first thing that came to mind.3

'There was apart of me that wanted to give up right then and there, apart of me that just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry to no end.  But I knew I couldn’t.  I knew we would all die if I did.  That’s the only reason I bit my quivering lip, stifled my tears, and pressed forward…'4

“No!  No!” I hissed at myself, my index finger slamming down on the backspace key.  “Something!  Anything that doesn’t make people want to slit their wrists…”5

In my own defense, I would like to state that I am neither a pessimist nor an optimist.  I like to refer to myself as a realist.  Unfortunately my work often portrays me as being a “goth kitten.”6

“Eeerrrrrrrrrr!”7

“Hey!” a random, male voice childishly called out.  “Whatcha doin’?”8

Without turning to catch a gander at the person, I could tell it was my boyfriend.  “Just writing…”9

“About?”  He began strolling over to me.10

I finally glanced up at him when he reached me.  The corners of my mouth automatically turned upward in a smile when I caught a glimpse of the silly grin on his face.  He continued to speak in his high-pitched little boy voice.11

“Is it about me?  It should be, because I’m awesome!”  He decided to lean down and poke me in the stomach to emphasize the word “awesome.”12

“Yes, babe.  Yes you are,” I responded, slouching a bit to guard my stomach from further poke attacks.  With each jab, I giggled and squirmed away from him.13

I tried to regain my composer.  “What are you doin’ here, anyway?”14

He caught on pretty quickly and regressed to his usual deep, raspy voice.  “Eh.  I just came ta visit you real quick before I go to work.”15

“Aw!  That’s so sweet…”  The sarcasm in my voice made me grin again.16

“Damn right!  ‘Cause I’m awesome!” Again he poked me.17

“Would ya stop pokin’ me already… ya weirdo!”18

“No!  Why should I?” The poking continued.19

“Because I said so!”20

“Yeah well… Nobody likes your face!”21

I gasped and gave one of my cute wide eyed pouts.  “But my face is pretty…”  I spoke in childlike tone.22

He scoffed in my face, something he often did when we played through the scene.  His jeering made me pout more.23

“I’m just kiddin’ babe!  Your face is beautiful.”24

The sad, little girl face was swept away with a satisfied smile, but the high pitch of my voice stayed.  “I know!”25

Warmth began to seep into my hand as he grabbed it and lifted me from the chair into his embrace.  One hand rubbed my back as if it would help him to become one with me, while the other arm scoped my waist towards him.  I responded by crossing my wrists behind his head and resting my face on his shoulder.  I inhaled once, inhaled twice, and my eyes fluttered with exuberance from his familiar and comforting scent.  After a few moments, we pulled back, but didn’t loosen our hold on one another.  We merely gazed into each others eyes, like to “star struck lovers” do.  Then he planted a tender kiss upon my lips and smiled at me.26

His voice pierced the blissful silence.  “I have to go now.  I’ll be late.”27

A pouted.  “Okay…”28

“Hey look on the bright side; you can get back to your writing.”29

“True!  I think I know what to write this time.”30

He had begun making his way out.  “Oh?  Had writer’s block?”31

“No… Just a creativity complex.”32

“Eh?”33

“Don’t worry about it.”34

“Okay.  Well… I’ll call you when I get home from work, okay?”35

I smiled at him.  “Sure!”36

“I love you!” I could tell he really ment it based on the adoration in his eyes, and I hoped it shown back at him in mine.37

“I love you too, babe.”38

The room felt empty after he left, but I didn’t mind, because my heart was full.  39

I found my spot again in the computer chair and repositioned myself.  This time, I didn’t need to flip through my binder or stare at the screen to come up with a basic idea.  I merely let the words flow from my heart.40

'I spend most of my days fantasizing about how I adore you.'41