Thousands of free stories. Support your favorites when you're ready.
Showing stories tagged with #creative-struggle Clear filter
Depression has gotten the best of me, It has broken my will to write, No words ever spring to mind, My passion has gone out of sight.
I have been starring at this screen for hours. I have even tried taking a nice warm shower. I have never had such trouble finding words. I believe that this is all rather absurd.
"You can't write, what is this dribble" "Who would want to read this?.
Gr, I think to myself Riddled and puzzled without a doubt I try and try but whenever I think Im done, Other peoples are so much better,I should be alone Locked in a closet to write all day, Maybe id...
I have a case of writer's block,. A wall of solid steel,. As hard to break as solid rock,. Don't think I'll ever heal,. I do the first that comes to mind,. Pour water in the kettle,.
I was sitting here thinking. And that's where it ends. My mind has drawn blank. My dear opuss friends. Maybe it's cause. I'm just feeling tired. The sun has gone down. I'm feeling less wired.
4 years. 4 years I've had this story in my head. And only there. For 4 years I've mentally created this characters and written and rewritten the plot.
I seem to have lost my singing head No tuneful notes fall from my mouth No you haven't got the part they said My talent has decided to fly south At the audition they said it was great Someone even...
Cup of cold coffee,. Spilt on the floor,. 2010's calendar,. Taped to the door,. Sheets of scrap paper,. All cover the table,. Damp, yellow post-it notes,. Double as labels,. Boxes of ready meals,.
I don't no what has happened My work has come to a halt Trying hard to produce something It's really not my fault.
You're probably thinking that this is some crazy teenage rant that should be banished to a lousy Facebook status, but it's what's on my mind, so I'm going to speak it. I moved out yesterday.
So I guess its back to this again Stuck, Lost for inspiration I guess it's back to this dead end In a rut, cross and pacing This writers block title Is becoming quite vital To snap...
Another title, another veil for my rambles. I've never been much good at poems; in fact, in my entire 17 years I think I've only written one. It was about daffodils, and I was in Year 3.
So it seems I've lost the skill With my words I've lost the will Abandoned here, all alone Words have left me far from home My mind struggles to form a line Maybe this is all a sign Maybe I'm not a...
Two hundred now in counting, And I'm not even halfway up this mountain. I'm not even close to published. No where near to where I wished. I suppose I'll just keep trying. There's no sense in crying.
"I am a writer," I told myself. And people actually believe.
When I first joined Opuss, Twas a week or so ago, I just couldn't stop writing, The juices seemed to flow. I'd write about anything That popped into my head.
'What's wrong with you, gurny gob?' The fair young thing inquired Sitting there beside me, Beautiful, simply attired.
doubt any of you noticed, doubt anyone ever noted, the lack of poems from me, normally I do them with speed, writing for me is normally a need, I guess I just lost my dreams, nothing inspired me, to...
Must admit to getting worried To where have all Opussians scurried.
Troubled troubadour cannot sing, Lost his voice and snapped his string. Thinks his message has been lost, The audience has turned to frost.
Half-formed sentences. Incomplete ideas. The poet's mind flits between them all, A nervous butterfly not sure where to land. Everything is inspiring.
Far too intimidated, Not sure if I can match it, Too many great writers, Where exactly do I fit.
Drained of energy I sit and stare. Into a blank space with nothing there. Soaked in pain that wont seem to shift. Writting is something to give my spirit a lift. Forcing out words from my empty mind.