In The In-Between
The curse of the blank page is something that shouldn’t plague me.
I am a writer.
Words are my thing.
They free me; so why, do I somehow feel so completely trapped.
As I stare at the blank page, so fresh with all number of possibilities, I wonder why it paralyses me like this, when it is meant to be the very thing that frees me.
Looking away from the screen and around the room, I glare at the sunlight gleaming into the room, and blazing off the page, making it seem even whiter than normal.
I didn’t want to give in to it, but the words simply wouldn’t come, and as the time ticked down, slowly bleeding my life away, I realised that I really had nowhere to go from here.
The feeling crippled me, making me feel impotent; broken.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t imagine another day like today…
and that’s why I did it.
That’s why I am now laying in a hospital bed, in a coma, with only a slim chance of waking.
I know I should feel bad; wrong, even, but the only thing I feel is regret. Regret that I am laying here in this bed, rather than cold, in a casket in the ground.
Some people would say that it’s selfish, but really, when it comes down to it, if they haven’t lived the same life as I, then, do they really deserve to be able to comment.
It’s strange here; oddly white, and my body feels like it’s once removed. Which, I guess it is, in a way.
Once removed from me, and once removed from the world outside.
Should I be happy?
I’m not honestly sure. In fact, the only thing that I know for sure, is that I did not choose the state that I am now forced into living in.
People generally fall into two categories when it comes to this. One group believes the act to be selfish. The other believes that the act should be pitied.
I was never sure which side I would fall on.
Li Carter is a writer, artist and crafter. Her favourite thing in the world is to create. She loves…