Dear Writer’s Block,
It’s not you, it’s me.
Seriously, please don’t cry over this paper. Not yet at least. I know you’ll cry. You’ll cry because this was so unexpected, because we have become so close over these last few months. I know in your heart that you wanted to hang on to me, and honestly, I was really comfortable staying with you. It was easy living. You gave me a place where I didn’t have to struggle. I was able to explore more hobbies outside of my writing. I can’t say that I haven’t enjoyed my days with you, where you allowed me to just exist. But Writer’s Block, I just can’t be with you anymore.
We aren’t a good pair. You need someone who is okay existing as they are with you forever, and I’m just not that girl. I can’t be that girl anymore. I want to grow. I want to travel into my mind, unlock things that have been hidden away in my subconscious. It can’t be put off any longer. My mind is dying in this relationship. I don’t feel happy being stagnant, and I know you feel the tension. Even though I come to bed to cuddle and talk about nothing, I know you notice when I get that spark in my eye. It’s that moment when I get a sudden hit of inspiration. That moment used to come a lot when we first started dating, and I would let you smother it, killing the flame of creation so that I could make you happy. I thought that you were helping me see better things then, not shrouding the world from me. However, lately, I haven’t been able to contain my desire to create. The spark will come, and I see you get anxious, starting to find ways to draw me back into your comforting arms, to sleep and dream with you. Yet instead of consenting so easily, I let my eyes glance over at my journal. You see the desire in me, the intense need to grip the pen and pour out my thoughts. Then you get angry with me. You find something small to make an argument over, and I panic at your outburst. Our night always ends with me pleading with you to forgive me. You always draw out our anger long enough to drive the point home, then you relent to let me lie in your arms again, enveloping me in your comfort. The thing you don’t see, because you fall asleep far earlier than I do, is my tortured expression, the absolute depression that crashes over me as I long for something more.
I want to love you like you love me. All you wanted was someone who would stay forever, frozen in time. Eternity in stagnation sounded lovely to spend with someone so loving. But Writer’s Block, I have to break up with you. You may be one of the most loyal and dedicated lovers I have had, and I will always remember my time with you, but there’s another love that needs attending to. My first love: creation. He might not need me as much as I need him, but I know that without him, I won’t grow. I’ll come to hate myself for denying myself of him, and then, I’ll come to hate you. Nothing will squash that hate, not even the lies you whisper in my ear of how I’m perfect just the way I am. Creation is calling to me, asking me to challenge myself, explore myself, and truly love myself in all my flawed glory. I want you to know that I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but it’s time to move on. I know one day you’ll find someone new, who might actually stay for good. And even though I shouldn’t curse them, just remember that I’ll be rooting for you.