Writing a story is complex

 My fingers slid across my bangs pushing them behind my ear. I knew they wouldn’t stay there but fall back towards my face. Still I wanted them out the way to think. Lightly my laptop made a buzzing sound from where it sat in my lap. Something about this all was not working. My mind had no thoughts what’s so ever passing through it. It was just kind of blank, almost like the little person inside of there just walked out on me when need.  I leaned backwards against my headboard closing my eyes. Without thinking I sad loudly to myself. “UGH I hate this! Why cant a write?! It’s just a story”

 Just then my mother looked into my room looking curiously and said “Hey there need help with something.” I tilted my head and opened one of my eyes. “Just writing a story mom” On her face there was a look that consisted of a mixture of please tell me my own kid did not forget how to write, interest like a little kid and why didn’t I tell her.  “Heyyyyy think I can maybe help,” she said like a kid, which couldn’t help but make you smile. “No thanks mom I can get this sooner or later….or really later..” I said smiling a bit. She pouted and said awed before shuffling out of my room. Of course I knew it was jokingly. She always used her kid act at times for fun.

 Once she left I leaned back on my bed again trying to think of an idea. I tried everything I could to get some sort of creativity going. Shuffled through iTunes, imed friends and played a puzzle game. Still I had nothing that inspired me to write. Mentally I had given up and that was the moment it hit me. I shot right up and began writing. Grinning at my laptop and said to myself thinking I was a genius “A story about a story…how perfect...” Before I allowed to let myself let out my genius life I continued to type on happily.