Naivety World

It’s Tuesday morning, and here I am, sitting at my desk with a rapidly cooling cup of coffee, staring at the blinking cursor on my screen. I want to write something, anything really, but my mind feels empty. Every sentence I had typed, I deleted. I know I should probably put it off until later, but they say if you have to eat a frog, it’s best to do it in the morning.

But do I have to eat it? What if I pucker my lips and kiss it, will the frog turn into a prince? Maybe that’s what I need. A muse. A dazzling prince charming whose eyes can see the depths of my soul and make my heart flutter, Or a bad boy, with a leather jacket and a devil-may-care attitude. Imagine the stories I could write with a rebel like that, each word dripping with defiance. Or maybe I need a gentleman cloaked in moral ambiguity, who would fill my days and nights with the kind of passion that leaves me breathless, trembling and craving more.

Then there’s the genius who can solve complex equations and recite Shakespearean sonnets from memory. I bet he would solve all my problems. And let’s not forget the nerds, the unsung heroes of the modern age. He would definitely provide inspiration for quirky stories. Or maybe what I need is a world-saving hero, like something out of a Marvel movie to save me from this writer’s block. Or a creative, a painter or sculpture, who would make me as much his muse as he is mine

Oh, the things I could write with a muse by my side! Words would flow from me like a river from a broken dam, unstoppable and overflowing with passion, intrigue, and suspense. But where can I find such a muse? Is there a store for that? And can I have one of each please?

“Hey Alexa, play ‘Love Me Like You Do,” Maybe I can find inspiration from the depths of the internet. But Alexa remains silent, as if even she knows that no song can save me.

As I sit here, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing for the kind of love that inspires greatness. A love that would set my soul on fire and fill my days with purpose. Not that I’d bank all I am as a creative to one person, but I do want to be swept away by passion and lose myself in ecstasy and through that, possibly write the greatest love story. A girl can dream.

In the meantime, I am stuck in a staring contest with a blank page, and it’s winning. My only companions are the ticking of the clock and the distant sound of traffic outside. No princes, no rebels, no gentlemen, no geniuses, no nerds, no heroes, and worse, no story.

“Hey Alexa, play ‘All By Myself”