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Oh, But Untitled Is So Cliché...
It had been five minutes, and the stupid black cherry soda wouldn’t stop fizzing. The tiny bubbles popping inside the can irritated my currently calmed nerves. Staring at the blank word document in front of me, I envisioned the amazing poem soon to blossom out before me like a rose in the springtime. The soda was annoying. I waited a couple minutes for my fingers to swiftly start running over the keyboard like the nimble legs of a spider to create this amazing poem that was soon to be. It didn’t happen. I gaped at the still blank document my mouth hanging open. Where was the amazing poem? Not on the screen that’s for sure. I explored my deserted mind for an idea, an oasis, which just wasn’t there. I sipped my overly fizzy black cherry soda and thought. Things just didn’t come to me anymore. I had to WORK. My whole life, everything had been laid out for me. I knew where I was going. I mean, I still know where, I just don’t know how anymore. I sighed discontentedly and opened a blank internet browser. But this time, my fingers knew exactly what to do, where to go to waste another hour of my time. Another sip of my soda, and the dark liquid spread throughout my mouth with its sickly sweetness and many bubbles. I gulped disgustedly as I looked at what I was drinking, and threw it away. As I returned to my laptop, I sat once again cross-legged in the black computer chair and spun myself around. I fell. Laughing as I picked myself up from the floor, and wrote.
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