One day I find myself cross legged, in front of my laptop screen, fingers gliding over the keyboard, not exactly touching but feeling the depth of being able to write without breaks like Beethoven playing his F-minors on the piano, eyes closed, feeling the bliss. Nothing, no words, no sentences, no emotions to start with. I feel the slump coming in, stealthily peeking from the window into my brain. Argh, the frustration takes over, I feel the anger seep in. I always ask myself, why even bother being pissed off about something that you know comes thru back and forth, making short trips. I sit back, close the laptop angrily, and get lost in thoughts. I try hard to think about something I packed away safe in the "feelings" stack, nothing. Usually, it is brimming with memories, but somehow it decided to go back, deep down the volcano core. "Just a bad day", I keep explaining myself. " I take a day off, then one becomes two, and my anger-o-meter is almost reaching the limits. I try thinking hard, listen to my "writing hours" playlist, look at all the pictures I clicked, try making mood-boards, but nothing happens in there, inside this devil of a brain. I ask myself, "why the hell are you angry, what is making you angry?". I know what's making my angry, at least I try to understand the reason.
There's no other thing that makes me satisfied other than writing, the texture of the bare page, the hold of the blunt pencil, sometimes typing on the laptop keyboard without having to stop and look at what I am writing, nonstop, continuous. I don't know what else gives me happiness. I don't think I have reached the level of professionalism, but being able to write is the only thing that keeps me going. And I honestly don't think where I'd be if not for having the individual capacity of being able to manipulate words to write out loud, weave worlds that exist only in my head and let strangers and people in into that world of my own. Thinking all of these thoughts, I can see myself calming down, and go back to writing, anything that came to my mind, even if it was writing about the neighbor's dog or my thoughts about signing up for an anger management class, haha.
That's me and my null point. We hate one another, but sometimes need each other to rest, and to keep writing. For you it might be a slump, a minor "writer's block", but for me it is more than that, it is my secret guest, a lovely guest.