I’m bored and vacant. Nothing comes to mind, not a single idea. What do I write? I am sitting here on my bed, feeling inexplicably blank. My chest feels hollow and my thoughts have no allure. Writer’s block: that’s the name of my infliction. What do I do with my time? I don’t have any work, television has lost it’s charm. I could listen to music but for some unfathomable reason, I don’t want to.
I need inspiration, something to entice me. This vacancy doesn’t feel good, I mean I am fine but I’m stagnant. Stagnancy is bad, still waters run dry. Maybe, I should tell you a bit more about myself. I love fast-paced music, beautiful vocals and deep lyrics. I never feel lonely, I love being alone. My most precious position is my freedom. I’ve mentioned all of this before. Nothing new to be added, and I don’t want to repeat my words like a broken record.
Everything is bland and I feel exhausted because of this inactivity. So much so, that I’m writing about the fact that I have nothing to write about. Maybe it’s the weather: gloomy and dispiriting.
I want to know why everything seems so ordinary. I feel a little dejected with my lack of material. If you’re reading this, how about some criticism? Tell me how I can improve upon my work. Maybe all I need is guidance and conversation to get back on track. I do not want my blog to become this dull, trite thing. Give me a hand, maybe? I don’t know, you probably have better things to do with your time.