Writer's Block

I pounded my hands on the keyboard before standing up to light a cigarette. For three weeks, I've been staring at the same blank space of a screen. Nothing good has come out of my fingertips furiously typing. If this lasted any longer, I was going to throw my laptop at the wall. I needed something big to happen. I needed grief and ecstasy, romance and fist fights. I needed to feel something more than I was going to get locked in my tiny apartment.