Writer's Block

Title: Writer's Block
Rating: G
Word count: ~850
Summary: A writer's block is said to be a psychological phenomenon which causes an inability to write.
Definition aside, this story is about me trying to write in spite of a writer's block, complete with the goodness of third person narration.

---
She feels empty. It has been a while since whe wrote but she feels like she really wants to. But it feels empty upstairs, she's got nothing to write about.
Asking people around her, she gets the usual suggestions, write about love, write about pain.
She's written plenty about pain, it was what she had started out with. Channeling the pain she saw around her through paper, or rather, in her case, a Nokia 5310 keypad and a digital screen. She's written plenty about love, so much that it has turned into a mental labyrinth. No matter where she turns, she ends up at love.
Drawing plotlines from experiences is something everyone (who writes) does. What's happened to her is that the imagination part of her brain has temporarily (or so she hopes) decided that all routes are to be redirected to a specific time slot in her past. A time she was happy. A time that she'd never regret, a time she doesn't want to relive because she is happy thinking about it as her past. 'Leave the past in the past, gonna find the future' and all that.
The problem is that each of her stories have started to get repetitive. It's all about finding that one right person, OTL or One True Love, if you prefer, and living happily ever after, with or without the OTL. And a battle with society. Cheesy, "true love" stories and she's sick of them.
She wants to expand her horizons, write about things that really matter, but the mental block is stubborn. She writes a story about true friendship and reads it out to her friend who tells her it reminds her of love.
Love. Bleargh. She treasures each of her previous trysts with love but she's tired. No more. Too much time and effort, she thinks, is required by relationships. Especially after they end.
Even friendships. She surrounds herself with the kind of people that wouldn't really care if she spoke to them everyday. They know she'd be there for them when they really need her, and she them. A complicated sort of simplicity.
Not everyone understands why it is necessary for her to build walls. She blames it on issues and inner demons. Deep inside she isn't quite sure. She might be a little afraid to search too deep within herself. 'Don't get too close/It's dark inside/It's where my demons hide/It's where my demons hide'
She pretends to be in control, intuitive and insightful. In reality, she isn't sure if she is any of those things. In any case, she knows she's easily distracted.
Her stories. They all lean heavily towards a certain experience in her past. That certain experience which pulled her out of her self-involved-pity-party and taught her how to smile again. That experience through which she met a friend, a friend who understood better than any other; a friend who knew when to console, when to give her space; a friend who only wanted to love and be loved in return; her OTL, you can say.
Human beings have a tendency to exaggerate. Happy memories become happier after a while. She doesn't want to gloss over the downs in the sine wave graph representing their relationship so she takes care to remember each of the negatives. She finds herself treasuring each of the memories, regardless of the emotion, positive or negative attached to it.
So there she has it. Each of her characters discovers and rediscovers her friend in various forms. A brother, a lover, a friend. They reproduce the relationship she had. She calls it love, but hell, what does she know about love?
She wants to overcome this writer's block, this black hole but then again, she doesn't try too hard. Who are we to interfere with the natural course of things she asks, and doesnt even try. When she writes, she doesn't plan. It may be just one character or one place that she knows at the beginning, a park bench say, or a girl named Jane. As she writes her story, she develops her main character and that main character goes on to explore their world, ie - the story. So when her main character finds that story's equivalent of her own OTL, she doesn't protest. She doesn't try to divert the character into getting a job or undergoing a surgery. She lets her characters experience the happiness and pain with their OTLs and she did with hers. She thinks maybe deep inside she is a sucker for love stories. Then her gag reflex acts up and she knows she probably isn't.
She also doesn't know how to end them, her stories. Maybe that is her real problem, that she doesn't see endings. Maybe she doesn't want endings. She probably needs to learn that everyhing has an end.
So, until then, until she gets to the end of her labyrinth, here's to inspiration.