Creative Writing

[Vulminous_music]

Write

I was overthinking, as per usual. Psyching myself out of the assignment. Another idea popped into my head. No, no, not good enough. Not enough drama, not enough action. The teacher came over to me. “Need any help?” he asked. “No, I’m good” I replied; It couldn’t be further from the truth. How could I be good if I felt like the classroom was going to collapse all around me? I opened up a Google Doc, titled it Fast Draft. My hands hover over the keyboard. I have an unwavering determination to get something, anything done. My brain is nearly empty, a deserted island with nothing but volcanic ash and prehistoric remnants of ideas and thoughts. I hope that I don’t let my struggle show, but It’s highly likely that I did. I go to another tab, trying to avoid the work.
Just write dammit. Just write anything and it’ll be fine. If you start you’ll be able to finish. That's the hard part. Starting. Why can’t you just start? Just write a sentence.
The teacher walks over to my desk again. I don’t even try to conceal the fact that I’m not working.
“Where’s your story arc?” He asks.
Take a wild guess.
“I don’t know.” I say, quietly. My voice wavers ever so slightly, revealing my frustration. 
“Well why don’t we work on that?” he asks. 
Don’t patronize me. 
“I can do it myself,” I reply, dismissively. 
You know you can’t do that.
“Ok, Justin, but if you ever need the help, I’m here, ok?
Whatever.
“Sure thing.”
Help is for the weak.
I go back to my work, or rather my lack of work. The frustration has slowly been festering, growing inside of me. I started shutting down.
You can’t do this so why bother trying.
I stop what I’m doing. My hands still hover over the keyboard, but they start to withdraw. My arms fall onto the desk, and my head falls with them. Either minutes or seconds passed when I started to block out everything around me. I didn’t notice until the teacher was calling my name that it was the end of the period. I packed up my things, defeated, and went on to my next class

[hadlee]

same
n

[les-toilettes-skibidi]

Eww use LibreOffice

[les-toilettes-skibidi]

The writing is well done though

[robertclarke]

There are many platforms who are assisting and also guides are available.

[Benvisions]

too many people are spamming this post.

[Geekgazer]

Write

I was overthinking, as per usual. Psyching myself out of the assignment. Another idea popped into my head. No, no, not good enough. Not enough drama, not enough action. The teacher came over to me. “Need any help?” he asked. “No, I’m good” I replied; It couldn’t be further from the truth. How could I be good if I felt like the classroom was going to collapse all around me? I opened up a Google Doc, titled it Fast Draft. My hands hover over the keyboard. I have an unwavering determination to get something, anything done. My brain is nearly empty, a deserted island with nothing but volcanic ash and prehistoric remnants of ideas and thoughts. I hope that I don’t let my struggle show, but It’s highly likely that I did. I go to another tab, trying to avoid the work.
Just write dammit. Just write anything and it’ll be fine. If you start you’ll be able to finish. That's the hard part. Starting. Why can’t you just start? Just write a sentence.
The teacher walks over to my desk again. I don’t even try to conceal the fact that I’m not working.
“Where’s your story arc?” He asks.
Take a wild guess.
“I don’t know.” I say, quietly. My voice wavers ever so slightly, revealing my frustration. 
“Well why don’t we work on that?” he asks. 
Don’t patronize me. 
“I can do it myself,” I reply, dismissively. 
You know you can’t do that.
“Ok, Justin, but if you ever need the help, I’m here, ok?
Whatever.
“Sure thing.”
Help is for the weak.
I go back to my work, or rather my lack of work. The frustration has slowly been festering, growing inside of me. I started shutting down.
You can’t do this so why bother trying.
I stop what I’m doing. My hands still hover over the keyboard, but they start to withdraw. My arms fall onto the desk, and my head falls with them. Either minutes or seconds passed when I started to block out everything around me. I didn’t notice until the teacher was calling my name that it was the end of the period. I packed up my things, defeated, and went on to my next class

Damn this isnt bad, did not know you could write Vulm

[peepsinsane]