On Writer's Block

I can't breathe. I'm drowning in the deepest waters. Every day that passes just increases the immense pressure from the little voice in my head. It occurs to me that 'little' is a not a very good descriptive term because her voice is loud. She makes my stomach ache, she pounds my head into the cement floor, she runs through my brains filing system and throws my potential ideas into the air. She's ruthless, and she will not let up. Meanwhile, I keep slipping further and further under this sea of nothingness. An outstretched hand blindly reaching for just one great idea.

That's what it feels like to have my crippling writers block. Just one day of not feeling inclined to write will do this to me. Because it inevitably snowballs. Until it's been this long. Creativity is born of sadness, right? Or something to that effect. If you are happy, there is nothing to want and the struggle ends. Must I be unhappy to want to write? No. I already know the answer to that. But writing it down does help me figure out my problems. Maybe I'll create a favicon for this page. Get my mind off these terrible thoughts.