The Blank Page

The blank page. It taunts me. Like a two faced friend, it repeatedly stabs me in the back.
Can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think.
Where did all my words go?
My creativity has eluded me.
I miss the dreamer I used to be. Miss her so much I wanna scream.
I miss how easy life came to me.
Actually no... it wasn't easy. Just easier than what I have now, which is nothing.

Back in the younger years, I'd cry myself to sleep from the injustice of my father and the woes of not being with the guy I loved. Now I cannot cry at all. No tears escape my blue-gray eyes. Why? I feel nothing anymore.
Sure, there's love in my heart for my family and friends and joy in my head when something good happens... but honestly? Something inside me has changed. I'm cold and calculating. The world isn't bright with wonder anymore. Is this what it means to grow up?

I miss him tonight.
It's especially nights like that that I think of him.
The girl I was with him is the girl I miss. Carefree. Loved. Bright.
But she was WEAK.

My strength is what brought me to this. No longer do I depend on the strength of others to build myself up. I am my own worst enemy and my own best judge. Independence. It's a bitch. It's also a friend. The very same friend that stabs me in the back; The blank page.

FUCK WRITERS BLOCK.

Why can't I write my book anymore? I'm so angry.