She woke up, disorientated by her dreams. Did that really happen, or did her stupid brain just make it up? She sifted through the details in her head before they faded away, as dreams always do. No. No it was a dream. Her boyfriend didn't wear glasses. Weren't they the glasses her dad used to wear? Ah yes. Abandonment issues. Awesome. Everyone should try them. Fear of being with someone and fear of being alone.
She stretched. He wasn't here, and in a way she was quite pleased. Nice to wake up in the morning sometimes without feeling obliged to be nice and make conversation before she'd had her first cigarette. She could smell her breath, sour from the long sleep. What time is it anyway? Oh, it's only 7 in the morning. More sleep? The uncomfortableness of the nights adventures had left her feeling weird, kind of scrumpled up inside. No. Better to get up and have a cup of tea. Maybe start the days writing task. It's only 750 a day, after all.
She padded to the kitchen. It was tidy for a change and she didn't even have to go in the dishwasher to retrieve a cup. What a lovely change, although she knew it was only because she was doing anything at all at the minute to avoid writing. It was just so hard sometimes. The blank page. The tabula rasa. It could be so daunting. What to write about? Fantasies about men on white horses come to take off their lady loves? Aliens and robots invade earth only for mankind to fight back and to live another day?
The possibilities were endless and that meant there was no choice. She put the kettle on, the cold water splashing out of the sink and hitting her bare stomach. Jesus. that's icy. That's one way to wake up, eh?
After she made her tea, she went and sat at the computer and turned it on. The bloody thing seemed to take longer and longer to get going, and she thought that she probably should have turned it on before making a brew. God. With banal thoughts like this, how was she ever going to get anything good written.
She sat back in her chair and waited for the windows start up tune to come out the speakers. It did, too loud and she jumped. Bloody thing. Why was is so loud? ah yes. She'd been watching a film last night and the dodgy copy had bad sound so she'd had to turn it right up.
Right. Quickly check facebook, reddit, twitter, emails...
Bugger. that's an hour of the day wasted again. She had been pleased to read in the news that the two boys accused of raping a little girl had not been imprisoned. What was the world coming to where a game of 'I'll show you mine and you show me yours' got you on the sex offenders register. She thought back to when it had happened to her. She had been 9, and her and her sister were playing with a boy from down the street. What was he called again? Wayne? Ben? Something, not that it matters. She had been horrified, as he got out his cock. Her sister had raised up her skirt and she'd bolted to tell her mum all about it. Seems daft now.
Maybe that was something to write. A story from the perspective of all three characters, her, her sister and the little boy. That could fill 750 words, surely? Nah, she wasn't in the mood right now for that kind of thing. Too early. Maybe try that tomorrow, or later in the day when she felt slightly more human. Her half-left cup of tea had gone cold, so she went back to the kitchen to make another one.
There now. She sat back down, sitting with one leg up on the chair and one dangling on the floor. Still no inspiration. What was the quote she'd read the other day? 'I love being a writer but what I can't stand is all the paperwork.' ha. It would be funny, if it wasn't so tragically true. How was she ever going to make it if she couldn't even rustle up a few words? Aha! What about just writing all this down? She began to type... 'She woke up, disorientated by her dreams. Did that really happen, or did her stupid brain just make it up..?'
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