not really feeling artsy anymore
What will a writer do when they lose all their words?
For a writer losing all of their words is like plucking all of a child's favourite toys. And you'll see a child cry and throw a tantrum and roll over the floor to get the toys back
But a writer? Specifically this writer that we're talking about, she just shuts herself down. Writing in a cubicle surrounded by white walls and selling lies did this to her.
A black cloudy figure often loom over her shoulders. She felt it's presence everytime she opened her notebook to write. It lurked on her even when she had something decent to write about at work. For they prefer the machine’s version over a human's. For there is nothing real or romantic about marketing useless things. For she's suddenly so scared of the mistakes within her words. The black clouds continued to loom over her. Sucked all the colours of her notebook, her quill, her papers. And then finally her. She sits alone now, by her favourite tree trying to bring back the words that once she didn't have to force it out. She used to write like she's about to be breathless if she doesn't note it down. Like the words were her anchor to hold on to when life crashed merciless waves at her. Now she writes and goes back to her words and feels shitty at how less it all feels. How it doesn't satisfy her anymore. The feeling of not owning anything she writes cuz all of her words are merely prompts for AI to eat up and spit out baseless words that are more likely to get a conversion.
She wants everything back. She wants to go back to hating her parents and not empathising with them just so she can muster up a write up about how horrible they actually are. She wants the romance in it back. She wants to fire back in her words. She wants to look up at the sky and think of poems on the spot like she always does. She wants the music back, the kind that had her up at 1am and write about it.
Until then she'll have the stormy black clouds as her companion. For it has to rain someday.