Susan cannot write anymore

Zeus and Pandora are lying down near the porch, looking as the birds fly by, thinking about their next meal and longing for their next purring. Inside the house, Susan is having her 10^th cigarette and probably her 5^th cup of coffee after having spent the whole week trying to write something on her laptop.

She looks at her cats calmly dozing and remembers her first piece of writing… words written in an old notebook of hers. It used to be so simple and rewarding. It used to be the greatest pleasure she could get from life: sitting down somewhere quiet, away from distress or anger, a place she would feel comfortable and calm. A pen was all she needed for her thoughts would pile up and she would have so many tales to tell that the 24 hours of a day were not enough.

That was a past so sweet and promising that she could actually live on writing for all those years. Publishers would call her day and night for something to be published and she’d deliver amazing stories written out of the purest form of love for writing. That was then but what about now?

It’s 1:00 pm and she has spent nearly 12 hours trying to write something. If she still wrote on her notebook, there would be hundreds of sheets of paper on the floor (something her dear cats wouldn’t mind at all). She feels like she doesn’t even know the language anymore. In the past, not so long ago, she used to feel intimate to the language and she wouldn’t have to choose the best words to create one of her fabulous tales. What has happened?

Does that happen to any human being who does something out of love and passion? Does the will to go on doing what you know best simply vanishes and you are left with nothing but sorrow? What do we have to subject ourselves to in order to be able to recover that will we once had? Does is simply go away or is it just a test?

All Susan has now is a lot of questions without a single answer. Therefore, her instincts tell her to go on with whatever is left of her life. Try and follow her routine. Maybe it is time to feed Zeus and Pandora. Maybe they will stare at her and she’ll have all the answers she’s been looking for. Maybe.