She tore the page of words out of her spiral notebook. Tossing it onto the pile of trash along with the other discarded pages. She became frustrated.
She knew what she wanted to say, but the words never made sense once she wrote them down.
Taking a deep breath, she began to write again. It was like a drug, even though it sometimes took hours, she knew that until the words made sense on paper, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She needed to write.
Her pen flew across the blank sheet, filling it with letters that became words, words that became sentences, sentences that became paragraphs. She paused and marveled at how quickly a page filled up…a page full of nothing.
She ripped that page away, crumbled it up and tossed it in the trash. The words meant nothing if it didn’t say what she needed them to. The frustration inside of her head needed to be released through the words. She had to make the words fit together in a way that made sense to her mind.
She sat the pen down, rolled her neck slowly and took a sip of the now cold tea. She took a bite of her peanut butter sandwich and thought again of how she had to make the words make sense.
She picked up her pen, and began to write. This time feeling each word as the letters poured out of her. She didn’t edit. She knew that if she stopped, the words once again wouldn’t make sense. She wrote, and as each second passed she felt the heaviness of sleep coming over her, she couldn’t stop though. The words finally made sense. She wrote until her eyes begin to blink slowly then she rolled her neck once again and continued to write. These words made sense, they finally made sense. She felt the frustration of life being released through her fingers. The stress of the days melted away into the words on the page. This felt so good. She didn’t even know what she was writing, but these words made sense. This was exactly what she needed. When she finished writing she sat back, looked at her pages of words, and thought “Yes, these words made sense.”
She took a sip of her tea, picked up her pen and allowed herself to once again be carried away with the words.
Now that the words made sense, she knew there would be no sleep, not until she had written everything she needed to say.