Worries and Hopes

She sighed, running her hand through her chocolate hair, a sigh escaping through her gritted teeth. The blank screen taunted her, the flashing cursor infront of one word, 'It'. Why did it always have to begin with 'It'? should she try a different word? Should she just give this up all togethere and explain to Gwen that she just couldn't anymore? But sadly, knowing Gwen, she would probably just pester her even more.

She hated days like this, days when she couldn't think of a single thing. Her parent's argued around her, when her step-brother came for a visit, she would scurry off and make herself something to eat, or do something in a different room. Her mother would scream and shout and have a complete and utter fit. She could only ignore it and do whatever seemed to captivate her interest at that time. She simply drifted around, hoping to block it all out. But she never could, could she. Something always got to her, and she always bit her tounge as not to cry. It was amazing some days that she hadn't bit off her tounge. Oh how she desperatley wanted to meet her father.

How that would solve anything, she would never know. She opened her near-black eyes with a heavier sigh. burying her face in the plams of her hands, her eyes open and staring through her fingers, her little fingers interlocked over the bridge of her nose, where her glasses usually rested.

Why oh why couldn't she find any Muse?

The End

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