365 Days.

I look at the scribble on the page,
sigh and scrunch the paper up,
throwing it to the side.
I’m surrounded in a sea of scrunched up papers,
and still nothing comes to mind.
I’m bored,
and the only reason I’m bored is because there is no imagination in me.
I’m not inspired,
and there are no ideas from which I could work.

I have Artist’s Block.
If there even is a name for it.
They have one for writers,
so why not artists,
painters and all them?

Ghostie sits in front of me,
purring away and playing with a paintbrush.
Amusing and adorable,
that’s what he is.

I’d draw him,
but my wall is already covered in various portraits of Ghostie.
If I put anymore up,
I’ll go delusional.

The rain outside won’t stop,
so there’s no way I can go to the park,
not in my state anyway.
I’m getting better,
but that’s no reason to run out and play like a child in the puddles.
As Magnus says.

Magnus.
Oh the man makes me smile so much.

I look up at him as he enters and tilt my head,
“Magnus,
do you have a family?”

Magnus pauses and looks over at me,
“Yes,
I have a mother, father and a little sister.”

“Where were you born?”

“Oh,
are you Italian?”

“No sir,
mother gave birth to me whilst visiting my grandfather.
He lives there.”
Magnus smiles softly,
“I’m an eighth Japanese,
a sixth Norwegian and the rest,
Spanish.”

“Wow…
Do you have a wife?”
I ask,
suddenly curious.

“No, sir.”

“Fiancee?”

“No.”

“Anyone you like or want to marry?”

“No.”

“Really?”
I bite my lip,
suddenly feeling sorry for Magnus.
He’s amazing!
Why is there nobody with him?

“Is it because we keep you here,
and you don’t go out often?”
I feel guilty.

Magnus looks horrified,
“No!
Of course not, sir!”

I frown,
“You should come with me to a party…”

“No!”
Magnus’s eyes widen more,
then seeing my flinch,
he adds softly,
“I’m sorry,
sir,
I simply can’t.
Your father…
he would be angry.”

“My father’s always angry,”
I mutter bitterly,
“Whatever we do,
it always displeases him.”

“Doesn’t have the time for his own son?”
I look at Magnus seriously for a moment,
“You know what,
it doesn’t matter.
It’s not like he wanted me anyway.”
I shrug,
turn to the empty paper and sketch down some lines.

I can hear Magnus try say something uncertainly but nothing comes out,
cause I’m right.
He knows it.
We both do.
And that’s why he can’t say anything.