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Description
Blip. Blip. Blip.

My cursor blinked on the screen. On. Off. On. Off.
It had been ages since I tried to seriously write something. I usually started to write, then I would lose interest halfway, but that's just an excuse when you get down to it.
I've never been a very good writer, and it seems that in the time I'd stopped, I got worse and worse.
My friend wrote a book. My other friend was the owner of one of the biggest roleplaying sites I'd ever seen.
I used to do these things, too.
I tried writing a book. I couldn't keep focused.
I tried my hand at roleplaying again, but I could never keep up.
I used to call myself a writer. What can I call myself now?
I'm at the point where sentence structure is foreign to me, grammar is a myth, and spelling at this point would cause me sheer amazement.
The blue light, although bright, used to glow with a sense of accomplishment.
It's dull now, and my fingers sit on the unused keys.
Many thoughts cross through my mind;
Have I forgotten?
Will the friends who knew me as a writer think naught of me?
What if I can't write anymore?

How can I ever write again?

"It's like riding a bike."

I jumped and turned to my left to look at my younger brother.

"I came to check Steam. It's like riding a bike. Writing."
I looked down. "I don't ride bikes. You know." I said in a soft whisper.
He nodded. "Yeah, you're right. You're scared of them!" He laughed, and I looked away.
"Err. Well, then....singing? You don't sing anymore. Why not?"
I stared sadly at the computer screen. I have no inspiration.
"You hate it now?"
No.
"Have anything to sing about?"
Yes.
"You forgot?"
.....

"Take a melody. Simple as can be." He looked at me, expecting me to go on.
I opened my mouth, but my singing voice died down to nothing. When was the last time I sung? I closed my mouth in defeat and looked away, hunching my shoulders over my head.
My brother shook his head. "Yeah, that figures. You always give up. Steam's not done, so I'm leaving, loser." I heard the chair next to me creak and footsteps walk away.

I stare at the screen. Blip. Blip. Blip.

Give it some words, and...
My voice cracked, but I still kept trying.

"S-Sweet...harmony..."
I don't always give up!

"Raise...your voi-ces..."
It is like singing...

"All day lon-...lon-...long now..."
...once you learn, I guess you really don't forget!

"Love goes strong, now.."
I cracked my fingers and brushed the dust off of home row.

"Sing a mel~o~dy of love, of love!"

Smiling as the screen lit up again, the blipping of the cursor less mocking now, and more like the waving of an old friend. Happily, I began my story.

Blip. Blip. Blip.

My cursor blinked on the screen. On. Off. On. Off...

Description
Blip. Blip. Blip.

My cursor blinked on the screen. On. Off. On. Off.
It had been ages since I tried to seriously write something. I usually started to write, then I would lose interest halfway, but that's just an excuse when you get down to it.
I've never been a very good writer, and it seems that in the time I'd stopped, I got worse and worse.
My friend wrote a book. My other friend was the owner of one of the biggest roleplaying sites I'd ever seen.
I used to do these things, too.
I tried writing a book. I couldn't keep focused.
I tried my hand at roleplaying again, but I could never keep up.
I used to call myself a writer. What can I call myself now?
I'm at the point where sentence structure is foreign to me, grammar is a myth, and spelling at this point would cause me sheer amazement.
The blue light, although bright, used to glow with a sense of accomplishment.
It's dull now, and my fingers sit on the unused keys.
Many thoughts cross through my mind;
Have I forgotten?
Will the friends who knew me as a writer think naught of me?
What if I can't write anymore?

How can I ever write again?

"It's like riding a bike."

I jumped and turned to my left to look at my younger brother.

"I came to check Steam. It's like riding a bike. Writing."
I looked down. "I don't ride bikes. You know." I said in a soft whisper.
He nodded. "Yeah, you're right. You're scared of them!" He laughed, and I looked away.
"Err. Well, then....singing? You don't sing anymore. Why not?"
I stared sadly at the computer screen. I have no inspiration.
"You hate it now?"
No.
"Have anything to sing about?"
Yes.
"You forgot?"
.....

"Take a melody. Simple as can be." He looked at me, expecting me to go on.
I opened my mouth, but my singing voice died down to nothing. When was the last time I sung? I closed my mouth in defeat and looked away, hunching my shoulders over my head.
My brother shook his head. "Yeah, that figures. You always give up. Steam's not done, so I'm leaving, loser." I heard the chair next to me creak and footsteps walk away.

I stare at the screen. Blip. Blip. Blip.

Give it some words, and...
My voice cracked, but I still kept trying.

"S-Sweet...harmony..."
I don't always give up!

"Raise...your voi-ces..."
It is like singing...

"All day lon-...lon-...long now..."
...once you learn, I guess you really don't forget!

"Love goes strong, now.."
I cracked my fingers and brushed the dust off of home row.

"Sing a mel~o~dy of love, of love!"

Smiling as the screen lit up again, the blipping of the cursor less mocking now, and more like the waving of an old friend. Happily, I began my story.

Blip. Blip. Blip.

My cursor blinked on the screen. On. Off. On. Off...