My hands burned. Flames rose from the tips of each finger and the skin glowed red in the darkness.

Blank pages scare me again. What is there to fear in words? I pretended that I was looking for inspiration over the past week, when really I was hiding under the covers or flipping buttons trying to avoid perspiration. I’m back now. I’m not sure why, but here I am, pounding out words in the hopes that some of them make sense and say something. My fingers are tired from all the video games. It isn’t from the writing.

I need to find a place to lock myself in. Silence and no escape is what I need. Wow. A little time off from writing and I find it difficult to form full sentences. I’ll persevere and keep at it, at least until I give up. That’s how failing always works best for me.

I didn’t mean to sit down and start babbling. I had hopes of telling a story that’s been tunneling through my head. This feels like that first day of Nano last year, when I sat in front of the computer, and felt I had wasted all my days of planning and agonizing over the story outline. I have nothing to say and I think I should give up before I hurt myself.

I’m trapped at work, thanks to a terrible traffic night. The traffic here has been bad lately. It’s partly because of the weather and partly because of the three slow old ladies that drive at the front of all traffic jams.

I have nothing. I’ll try this again at home without the temptation of video games (for today).

I’m home and I’m waiting for perspiration to take over.