You are the monster haunting my child-like dreams in the middle of the darkest nights. You keep me lying awake in frustration, in fear—even in anticipation—as I toss and turn too many times to count. The minutes pass; I begin to pace around my room, digging through the deepest lobes of my brain for answers, questions—anything that will defeat you.

A day goes by, and you are still in the front of my mind. You could my vision like a piece of dust wedged in the innocent corneas of my bloodshot gaze. Everywhere I turn you are there, mocking me with your childish gestures and facial expressions. I search for something sharp to lodge into your heart, but find upon impact that you have none. That is how purely evil you have become; heartless.

I beg and plead at your feet, asking you as patiently as I can to scurry off into the underworld of darkness where you belong. It is time to ruin someone else’s life, I claim, for mine is slanting ever so steeply downward. You are becoming too much of a nuisance, too hard to deal with as I sit with unused pen in hand and weep silently to myself.

I feel as if you have come simply to show me how pathetic I am. I begin to question my hopes and dreams as I lay partially lifeless on the ground before you. My brain has malfunctioned; no longer can I wow an imaginary crowd with my talents. You have taken them away, far away; hidden them in a place I cannot reach.

I close my eyes and meditate on such a subject as this. Your cruel acts slowly become a web of words spinning gracefully inside my head. I watch you cringe as a satisfied smile creeps onto my face like a long lost friend. The evil you have been bombarding me with for so long has become not a weakness, but a strength; a victory; in my favor, you could say. I manage, somehow, to tell the story that you have created for me with harsh truth.

You are Writer’s Block, and I have defeated you. The menace haunts no more.