I shouldn’t be loitering around the internet. I should be making that PowerPoint presentation for a reporting tomorrow, or finishing my part on that paper also due tomorrow–in a few hours, actually, because it’s already 2 AM–but instead I am here, not loitering around the internet anymore, but writing instead.

Hello.

I don’t really know what I want to write about. I just have this desire to write at this very moment, to create anything. I always get this feeling and most of the time it’s frustrating because I can’t satisfy myself; I can’t satisfy my desire to create. I always end up staring at a blank page, at the cursor blinking, mocking me. I always end up with a blank Photoshop canvas, a blank page of a drawing pad, a clean canvas, a blank Microsoft Word template.

I hear the clock ticking, louder and louder as I become aware of it. I hear time passing, lost and irretrievable. It syncs with the cursor blinking whenever I don’t type. The clock ticking, the cursor blinking, emphasizing my passivity, stressing my defeat.

Not tonight, I guess.