Dear Writer’s Block … Again

I hate you … let’s just make that clear.

I don’t know what I’ve ever done to you.

You always seem to strike at the most inopportune times, like my weighing machine just before a gorgeous date with an ice cream binge.

You mock me in your silence with your evil partner in crime – that dreaded foreboding cursor as it blinks at me flirtatiously always giving me just enough hope to think I may make it to the end and then you snatch it away. Oh, so torturously cruelly.

I hate you. I think I said that already but I feel like I have to say it twice so you know just how much agonising loathing I have for you within me.

That’s not very nice is it? But I don’t care.

You keep me away from my one and only friend, you are the very core of a disgusting, omnipresent nemesis.

You take pleasure in tearing apart two lovers, ripping one soul into pieces and then you ridicule me in all your powerful glory.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. It cannot be repeated enough.

It has been said in all its finality. Know that one day I will get the last laugh even if it is just to write down those eight precious letters …

I hate you.