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Rated: E · Letter/Memo · Other · #1926297
My break up letter for Writer's Block.
Dear Writer’s Block:

         It’s not you, it’s me. Yes, I know. It’s cliché, and I should avoid those like the pest. But it’s true. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve always lived up to my expectations. But we can’t be together anymore. I need to move on.

         You see, I’ve changed. I decided to change. I decided that I needed more than what we had, than what you could give me. There’s a whole universe right here at the tip of my fingers, but you’re in the way. I’m sorry I’m blunt, but it’s the truth: I need to explore, I need adventure and discovery and the thrill of the unknown. I need to be free. I need to be freed from your hold on me.

         It’s not that you’re clingy. You haven’t smothered me or wilfully held me back. But you have held me back nonetheless. It’s just who you are, and it’s a part of you that I loved. With you, I felt secure. You were home. With you, I didn’t expose myself to critique. I didn’t bare my thoughts for others to scrutinize or judge. No risk, no torment, no insecurity or fear of judgement. You were my haven.

         But I changed. I realised that missing out on creating caracters, on creating their world, their whole universe, on holding their destiny—that missing out on being God—wasn’t worth all the safety you could offer. Don’t get me wrong though. This isn’t about control. Granted, I want to be the omniscient, omnipotent Creator of universes. But only so their inhabitants can take me on adventures I’ve only dreamed of.

         ‘That’s all it is, I hear you jeer, a silly dream.’ Maybe. But this dream moves me in a way I’m afraid you cannot understand. You’re all about familiarity. And this was what I needed. But the feeling of cosiness pales in the light of wonder and marvel brought by childlike discovery.

         ‘Why marvel at the ink flowing from the pen, I hear you sneer, it’s merely excretion.’ But that ‘mere excretion’ suscitates real feelings. Those words on the page come alive in the reader’s mind, neurones fire in patterns that spark emotions, love, loathing, lust, all from ink stains on fibrous sheets.

         Yes, I know. I changed. I said so. Our views are diametrically opposed now, and we can’t even hold a decent conversation anymore wihout jeers and sneers and uneasy silences.

         So this is goodbye. I’m leaving. I met someone who can give me all that I seek now. If you read this far, I know you guessed it’s Writing.


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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1926297