Once again I met my friend. Just like every other obscure day. Same as yesterday, or actually last week for that matter. This always happens. Im sitting by myself, when something pops in my head. An idea, inspiration, a dream. For a couple of seconds, it is clear, but he comes by and messes it up. A million works of writing, millions of papers torn, lyng on the ground portray the meeting. He is a pleasent fellow, kind of quiet, like me, mysterious, and seems to come out of nowhere. I think he is quiet popular, or atleast many people know him. Im sure they do, heck he said he met Einstien. That crazy scientist I think, ya thats what he does. Scientist, always thinking, looking for answers.

There is one answer I wish someone could answer for me, who is this guy. We meet time and time again, and I forget to ask him about where he was born. Ah it doesnt matter. After, all I can look forward to is the next day, when I meet him again. Its now like goig to work,ect. Writers block will meet me again.



This idea just popped up in my head, haha