I Hate Writer's Block

I hate writer’s block. Sometimes I sit here for hours and hours, completely lost on what to write–or what not to write. My head is filled with other thoughts and new ones just will not fit. Do I write about me or someone I want to be? Should I spill out my entire life on paper or do I dream of the life of someone new? How amazing is it to have a new character growing in my mind? Writer’s block attacks all of these questions, leaving me with answers more confusing than the questions.
Should I write about the crazy woman I live with? Should I figure out if she’s actually crazy or not? Explaining her tears and anguish would be so hard, and revealing her loss of faith would be heartbreaking. What about the man she is married to? Would anyone care to read about his feelings of failure, his desire to provide, and his seeming inability to do so? I do not understand his feelings so maybe I could write about them. After all, writing is a way to learn. Is the question ‘why do marriages crumble’ too difficult to wrestle? Do I want to know the answers or just accept my fate?
Writer’s block creates in me so many questions. But they are all unanswerable. Should that be good enough me? I find that I just push away the questions, hoping that they will be answered elsewhere or maybe remain unanswered. The answers seem to lurk in the shadows, much bigger than me and scarier than the monster that hid under my bed when I was five.
It is writer’s block that forces me to write. I do not want to think about the questions, and I do not want to find the answers. So I write about someone else. Someone else may not have a better life, but it all makes sense. As the creator of the characters, I know why they do what they do and how it will end. I do not need faith because I can see the ending.
Is writer’s block a blessing? I do not know. It hurts me sometimes, but then it helps me, too. It has created in me no new understandings nor delivered the meaning of life. But it helps me hide my problems, my fears, the things I do not understand. So, yes, perhaps it is a blessing.