Letter To The Syndrome.

Dear writer’s block,
Do you understand?
Do you, understand?
That its been years,
Maybe more than years, since you have been inside my head,
Blocking.
Yeah blocking as your name says,
Dear blocking my ways to
Write something that comes up in my mind,
To prove any one that I really write.
To consider myself as an artist,
To make money out of my art,To support myself with that money.
To become professional.
To explain myself a little better.
To express my ideas about love,life, sex,society,infrastructure, politics, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
To keep writing.
To get appreciated.
To live a better life.
To own a better lifestyle.
To vent my frustrations out.
To make myself feel better.
To heal my soul.
To not cry every night.
To not feel that no one understands me.
To get the real support I never get.
To not get thoughts of jumping off the fourth floor of building number 56 of the apartments I live in.
To stop searching for painless ways to die.
To stop thinking painless or painful I just want to die.
To at least never leave my will to write again.
To at least never leave my will to live again.
To stop feeling whatever I just said isn’t poetic at all.

Dear writer’s block
You make me think maybe I wrote too much.
Maybe, it was all momentary.
Maybe, I was never a writer.
Maybe all those friends who have now turned their backs were right,
I am good at nothing.
Moreover, I am afraid that you’re nothing but a reality check,
Of my inabilities,
Of my faliures,
Of the fact that I am unwanted
Or overrated, maybe,
worthy of nothing,
You give me an immense fear
Of losing my readers,
Of being called a bad writer.

Dear writer’s block,
To me,
You feel like the 18 years of my life.
You’re the only experience I have.
You feel like the same feeling of being stuck in a house on fire when I was 6.
You feel like the same feeling of being stuck in my house where my father used to my mother.
You feel like my anxiety.
You feel like death to me.

Dear writer’s block,
Do you understand?
Do you, understand?
That its been years,
Maybe more than years,
Since you’ve been inside my head,
And now you just need to
Fuck off.