Nothing to Write About?!
A clean piece of paper laid in front of me, waiting to be written on, but my mind was filled with air- I was having it again- another writers block. Though the tip of my pencil seemed so eager and ready to put words in that paper, not one escaped through me. “Of the million things in this world worth writing about, why can’t you think of one?,” I impatiently asked myself. Everything was ready; everything was there-the eagerness, the excitement, the passion- everything, but the words… I stared to nowhere for sometime, somehow looking for an inspiration.
 I scanned my surroundings and lazily read the titles of the books that stood mockingly at my study table…”Oh God, please give me at least one-sixteenth of that inspiration you gave Stephanie Mayer, J.K Rowling or even that of Jane Austen,” I silently prayed, a few moments passed and still none, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath…when an abandoned abused notebook caught my eyes.
 I felt a sudden rush of excitement through my veins. At the back of my mind, I knew I recognized the notebook. Deep inside me, I feel some kind of happiness seeing it. Somehow, it was memorable. I grabbed it unconsciously and started scanning it. It was nothing very special looking- it had no cover and looked haggard as the papers were yellowish. I examined it and saw, written in crappy hand writing, my first collection of poems…. and it all came back to me.
 It was in third grade when I had to transfer to my new school- away from my circle of friends, and away from my comfort zone. I wasn’t really very enthusiastic in my studies that time and there was nothing particular in my mind... until that faithful day when our Civics teacher asked us to make a poem about nature.
 At first, I wasn’t really excited about it. To me, it was just a requirement a student must submit to earn a grade. Life was that simple for me. But I couldn’t explain how overwhelmed I felt while I was writing that poem. Thousands of ideas collided in my mind. Words kept flooding around me and there I discovered the passion.
 Whether my teacher commended my work or not, I don’t know, but I didn’t stop there- I wrote like I’ve never written before, I’ve learned to write different things, and in different ways. Somehow, it changed me- I felt enthusiasm in most of the things I do. I started to see the world in a different light as I explore new things through my compositions.
 I thought of this as I sat there. I smiled as I remembered all those years. And I felt something so intense… Inspiration? I don’t know. Passion? I’m not sure. It was spreading throughout my body and burning throughout my soul- it’s inexplicable. It was drowning me again, but at the same time it made me fly… then, I realized I finished it- my essay.
 It was like de javu. The feeling was familiar… one which I had already felt before; Still overwhelmed, I stared at my paper and through my crappy penmanship I read to myself the composition I just wrote… “A clean piece of paper laid in front of me….”
 © simplyinspired 2009
