CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
He'd had writer's block all day. For 8 hours he'd sat in front of his computer, unable to type anything. It was maddening. But he wouldn't move. He went back to Youtube, ran a search for "writer's block" then shut the window without watching any of the videos. He stared at the blank wordpad document before him. He had to write something. He just had to. If not now, when? He could die any day. ANY DAY! The thought was insane but true. There was nothing wrong with him. He was young, healthy, and as far as he knew no one was trying to kill him. But time kept moving. Time was the enemy. Time would sweep him away, time would take his life, time would erase everything he was, everything he could be, everything he had been! He had to leave his mark and had to do it now. He had to write the greatest novel in human history. Something that everyone would read, something that would change the planet. Inspiration hit him. He typed "A cat" then stopped. He had the first two words. AND THEY WERE FUCKING TERRIBLE! He smashed his fists down on the keyboard and then shut the document, electing not to save his "work" so far. He opened up Internet Explorer and went back to the Mine Field.
CaptainWacky knew he'd never change the world. All he could do was distract himself with spam. Distract himself from the inevitable. He couldn't change it. He couldn't write. He couldn't do anything. He posted this thread then sank back on his chair, crying.
CaptainWacky knew he'd never change the world. All he could do was distract himself with spam. Distract himself from the inevitable. He couldn't change it. He couldn't write. He couldn't do anything. He posted this thread then sank back on his chair, crying.
