She shifted in her seat, the screen in front of her was her blank canvass. The more she stared at it, the harder it was to actually start typing. The lack of colour in her life was reflected in the white box that she was supposed to be pouring her heart out in words.
What was once so easy to her was immensely difficult at this moment. Where she once felt passion and exhilaration in each written (or typed) word in front of her, was now just a burden of expression. Her thoughts went to the many journals and notebooks lying littered around cyberspace and in the real world. There were so many channels she could use to weave her magic and leave her innermost thoughts and fancies.
But what she lacked was the courage to see them through.
Finally, spent from trying to compose a masterpiece, she crawled under the covers, dejected at another night's failure. Another night of trying and failing to transfer her thoughts into words, another night of trying to fill the near empty glass of inspiration in her heart.
He sighed as she settled next to him, his thoughts deep in slumber, dreaming of green valleys and fields in the dry lands of Africa. He pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her and roughly shoves his right leg in between hers, automatically breathing her in.
"Mmmm..."
She relaxes against him, her frustration melting at his touch. And they rest together.
Tomorrow she will wake up to face her empty world again. Tomorrow she will once again struggle with her self esteem and identity in an environment that she was once accepted in, but could no longer pretend to be a part of.
But for now, she relinquished her fears and self-doubts. Their bodies lying next to each other, recharging; rebooting.
And they rest together.
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