text: It’s been a long few weeks. I’ve been a writer for as long as I can remember, well a wannabe writer that is. I promised my wife when we got married I’d pursue my dream of writing. She’s always had faith in me. She was never afraid to pursue dreams, even if it wasn’t always the most practical of things to do. I grew up listening to The Beatles and much like Paul said: I wanna be a paperback writer. The thrill of getting something published sounded amazing to me, but I guess I’ve never been very good. Well, I guess a lot has changed since the day we got married though. I haven’t followed through with my promise yet, so today seems as good a day as any. I’ve been working at this small manufacturing plant for a few years now. The pay is decent but the monotony of it is excruciating. I work a conveyor line. Much like the monotony of my job, my life feels the same way, more-so now than ever. These past few weeks I’ve felt like my body is on a conveyor belt. I feel like I’ve just been dragged from one thing to the next with no end in sight. I haven’t had a chance to even think about what’s actually going on in my life, I just keep moving. Well, like any other day, today was no different. I had just gotten home from a really long day at work. My wife wasn’t home, I really wish she was ‘cause today just sucked. Things just hit a little different today. I never did live much a life of luxury. Anyone who says living in New York is amazing clearly never lived in these tiny little run down apartments. Not that I’m complaining, honestly of all the things in my life right now, my crappy little single bedroom apartment isn’t even close to the top of the list, though I could stand to see less of the medical bills on the table but what are you gonna do? Honestly, There’s not much in this house that I do care about aside from a picture in my kitchen of my wife and I together on our honeymoon. We were both smiling in it. Funny, I haven't smiled much since that day. I’ve found myself trying to read a lot more than usual lately. I find it therapeutic to the mind, not to mention it gets me into the creative thoughts mood. . I’ve been experiencing a bit of an extended writer’s block for the past year or so and just couldn’t find the inspiration to start writing until recently. I just wish I knew what I wanted to write about. I’ve been sitting at my computer every day trying to just start typing but nothing comes out. I’ve been trying to figure out where to start. I’ve had this urge... this hunger to write but just can’t think of what to say. I’ve always prided myself on the fact that words came so easy to me. Not today though. Nothing’s been coming easy today. ‘Well, here goes nothing’ I say to myself again, sitting at the kitchen table, my laptop open to a blank MS Word page. My hands lay on the keyboard but nothing comes. My fingers remain motionless as the screen stays blank. The silence is deafening. ‘Write’ I tell myself again. Nothing changes. My mind begins to focus on the humming of the refrigerator. The buzzing makes me forget everything going on in the world as I blankly stare at my laptop forgetting what I was doing. “You’ve been so negative lately. Maybe you should try to write something a little more positive.” a voice came seemingly out of nowhere. "How the hell can I write something positive when there's nothing good in my life" I continued to stare at my screen, catching a glimmer of my wifes reflection in my computer screen. "I mean look at me, I live in a shit hole, the bills are starting to pile up... What do you want from me!?!" I snapped, my hand balls into a fist, slamming onto the table. “Well there’s always me isn’t there?” She says but I abruptly cut her off. “Don’t even get me started” my eyes roll “You know I’m always here for you. Whether you like it or not...” She says. I can see her smile from the reflection in my computer as she attempts to comfort me. But it doesn’t work.“You’re quite the comedian.” I chuckle a little and begin to type ‘She’s always there for me no matter what.’ “There ya go” I say. “Is that something happy and positive enough for you?” "It's not about me, is it happy for you?" Her voice gets louder. I can't tell if it's because she's moving closer to me or just getting more passionate about the topic. “It is... errr it would be if it were true. Unfortunately you and I both know that it’s not.” “YOU KNOW I’M SORRY” her voice grows, echoing through our house, I’m surprised the neighbors don’t hear it. “You know I would be! You know I WANT to be. It’s not like I Chose...” “I KNOW” I cut her off matching her volume as my hands slam on the table again. A tear slowly begins to flow down the side of my cheek, and I calm my tone. “I know. But none the less you did. And that’s just something I have to live with.” I haven’t turned away from my computer screen yet. I can’t bear to look behind me. Her hand reaches out to touch my shoulder. How I’ve desperately wanted to feel her warmth today “I’m sorry” she says. “I really truly am sorry. I want to be here for you.” “Yeah, me too” I let up on holding it in, as my sobs now become vocal. The sound grows as it can be heard throughout the complex. There's been a lot of crying coming from my apartment lately. The neighbors are probably going crazy with all the fights we've had this week. It's weird, we never fight, in fact our minds have always been so well connected. We knew everything about one another, and always seemed like those cliched perfect T.V. couples. It always seemed like the two of us were perfect for eachother, so why now? Why can't I write something positive like she's always wanted me to do? ‘'The future is not set by the pains of the past' I type exhaling heavily as I do. “How's that for a start? That can be positive right?” I say. My tears stop but my head lowers as I regain my breath. I remove my hands from my keyboard and place it on my shoulder where I felt her touch but nothing’s there. I go back to listening to the buzzing of the refrigerator as I start to remember where I am. I sigh “I Miss you” I say as my tears begin to flow again.