Frustration

Writers block. First hours. Then days. Then months. I'll get back to it. I'm taking a break. Then years.

I buy a notebook.

I stare at it.

It collects dust.

I read others novels.

I despise their success.

I want what they have.

I want to be an unknown. An anonymous. Speaking emotion through words typed on a screen. I want others to FEEL WHAT I FEEL.

See what I see. Why I see it.

But where do I start?

I can't start. I won't start.

I'm no good anymore.

No one cares what I have to say.

Its been years. Its been months. Its been days, its been hours.

Fucking writers block.