Stumped. Clueless for ideas. Attempting to write something on the paper, but my mind is like a desert, there are no signs of lifeI dive into my thoughts and memories until I just know. I can write a story about writing a story. I whip my pencil out from behind my ear, and throw my ideas onto the paper. I let my ideas and thoughts take me away. The pencil gliding on the paper like a sailplane in the sky. I firmly hold the pencil, the sweat and perspiration on my hands and forehead.
I drop my pencil and storm away from my notes as exhausted as one can be. My mind is a vacuum, sucking up all my brain power.