Blank

Blank
A Short Story

I stare at the blank paper in front of me. I itch to move my pencil forward and to just write something, anything. But I can't. The words that ran around my head the night before have left me alone. The white of the page starts to burn my eyes. A small beep alerts me of a new text from someone. I ignore it like the good writer I am. Another beep and I put down my pencil. Another beep and I think, five minutes.
I stare at the blank paper in front of me. I grip my pencil tightly and move my hand over the paper. The pencil hits the paper and I think, finally. But the pencil doesn't move. No words are formed and my brain is as blank as the paper. A knock from my door gains my attention and has me out of my seat. I look out the window and see one of my elderly neighbors at the door. It would be rude not to answer.
I stare at the blank paper in front of me. I let myself wander into my own imagination. I try to find my own stories and adventures in the back of my mind. I start to live lives that are not mine and try to remember every detail. A rumble brings me back down to reality. I realize I haven't eaten in a while. I can't starve myself.
I stare at the blank paper in front of me. I stare so hard, just hoping that maybe the words will form by themselves. I start to pray that the words will just come to me. I hope my pencil leaves my hand and just starts writing without my guidance. I blink. My eyes feel very dry. I look at the clock and shock myself. It's that late already?
I stare at the blank ceiling above me. I start to think of all the words that I couldn't think of before. I imagine that the ceiling is my paper and the words start to appear, covering the white with black. I know I should grab my pencil and start to write, but it's so far away and I'm so tired. I promise myself I will remember. I'll write it out tomorrow.
I stare at the blank paper in front of me. I itch to move my pencil forward.