When dry spell hits you, it hits you hard and right below the belt for that matter. The past month has been more like walking across the Sahara at midday while barefoot. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t muster the strength to write. Even composing a few lines on my diary seemed like a dreary task that was impossible to do.
More disturbing is the fact that I cannot really point out any source that culminated into the above state of mind. It might have been cause of the fact that I had so many people around me…but that can easily be dismissed as a lame excuse.
I’ve always had this notion that people somehow interfere with my “writing energy”. However hard I try I just cannot write with a hoard of persons hovering around the landscape of my mind. I’m a people person on the outside, but the most anti-social being on the inside, a bit confusing even for myself.
When it comes to the things I genuinely love, I prefer solitude. People have a way of spoiling the best intimate moments that one can have with their soul and that’s why I always lose interest in something I previously adored once one or two of my friends begin tagging along.
One would argue that this is a bit selfish, but well, sometimes we have to choose our own happiness before everything else. Of course such a trait comes with lots of consequences. The fact that I find it difficult to sustain friendships is enough proof. I most certainly would’ve been a lot happier if there were a friendship “on-off” button that I could press according to the suitability of the situation. Life would have been a lot easier that way. But seeing as this can never happen in real life, I have no choice but to stick to my lone ranger lane, love and cherish my own company.
During those silent nights when ideas flood your mind, all you need to do is unleash them on the keyboard and watch in slight amusement as they get converted into something that another person might find pleasure in reading.
That’s the most beautiful feeling for me. Maybe someday I will learn how to cope with people, the calculus of actually having a proper social life. But for now, I am satisfied simply being me.
Locked up in that green room, I feel like a queen, a princess in fairyland. I can do whatever I want, however I wish and at whatever time I please. And there are no people around to comment on my weird nature nor do those judgmental eyes that make you develop a lowly opinion of yourself exist.
The moment I lock that door, I feel so alive, every nerve in my body becomes re-energized, and all my defenses are dropped at the doorstep. I feel as if I could jump out of the window and fly into the dark skies; I can be Juniper Lee all over again. But my bubble gets busted immediately someone invades it. I feel suffocated, as if someone is trying to smother me with a pillow.
It’s weird…I know. At times, I wish all people could disappear from the face of the planet, but what fun would that be. There’d be no cake and candy shops, no supermarkets and ice cream joints, no hotels and markets and there’s be no fat and chubby babies for me to kiss and pinch occasionally. I guess I don’t really hate people as such after all, just those people who try to get too close to me.
Back to the beginning, I’m glad that the writer’s block is over. I can finally get back to doing what I love best in the solitude of my little green room , maybe I could call it little Gotham, or Littahsdom or Endsville. I haven’t really decided on a specific name yet, so I will stick to the Little Green room. And I’d be that Girl in The Little Green Room that’s obsessed with food:)