Writer's Block

Dear Writer's Block,



It's not you, it's me. 



You see, you've just been sitting here, doing what you always do, blocking my way, and preventing me from doing what I've always wanted to do.  I can't blame you for that.  It's your job.  But here’s where it ends.  That's why I'm breaking up with you.



I can't have you attempting to destroy that entire amount of creativeness in my inspired mind.  Can't and won’t happen.  There's too much in there just waiting to break out and impress someone for you to interfere like that.  So I'm asking you to back off.  In fact, you need to just leave.  Get out.  Vamoose.  You need to let me do my thing.



As I said, I don't blame you.  I’m not a bad writer.  You aren't a bad Block.  We just aren’t made for each other.  You've had your day.  But your purpose is done here.  I have things to say.  I'm giving you permission to move on to the next frustrated writer who will allow you to set up shop inside their head.  I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding someone.  Maybe even someone as nice as I am.  I mean, I did let you live here for quite some time.  And really quite comfortably, if I do say so myself.



Consider.  We didn't even argue.  I wrote a few words.  You balked.  I backed down.  We had quite the arrangement, didn't we?  I can't say I will miss you.



I will be fine.



Formerly Yours



A Budding Author