I really want to write...

I really want to write. I don’t know what to write about.

I want the click – clacking of the keyboard to result in eloquent prose.

Scratching my head, I think aloud, “what do I write about?”

My sister looking up from work replies, “Stop scratching your head”.

I ask again, “what do I write about?”

Her disinterest replies, “Anything”……

Deciding to take her upon her word I look to my surroundings, trying to find ‘anything’

To write about.

Do I write about the annoying whirring of the fan, whose restlessness mirrors the restlessness of my mind?

As I try to find inspiration in the concrete jungle visible through my windows, my mind wanders.

My eye is caught by the rhythmic flapping of the cover of a novel under the fan, then by the bottle of 99% fat free Ranch Dressing, then by the stack of pills.

I still don’t know what to write about.

A million thoughts flash across but my mind stops at none; like some broken projector that runs through the images stopping at none.

Then

The thought fox suddenly bites me

And I finally decide to just write.

To write about not being able to write.