Blank stares at blank screens consume every being of this lowly computer room. Everyone has a puzzled look on their faces; more of a look of confusion than anything else. All the while I sit at my chair, my space, and belt out any and all ideas that were bursting to get out of my head. Can they really not think of a single thought, idea or even phrase to write down? Are they too riddled with writes block or was I just granted the most ultimate gift I could think of. Mesa: Prodigy? After the wunderkind thought shoots in my head, I can help but dismiss it immediately. Me? A star gifted with a voice that only paper and pencils can express? “If only” and “Well..uhm..maybe actually..nahhh” envelop my mind. What if I was to writing, what Van Gogh was to art? Could I really inspire my peers, guide them away from something I was fortunate enough not to be consumed with (writers block)? I can’t think of this right now, but I know that one day this thought will surface again one day. I must snap out of these petty conversations with myself and focus on my task at hand; writing this essay. A narrative to be specific; something I had done a thousand times over. I can’t allow myself to be side tracked like the majority of my confidants. I can’t allow myself to be lured into something as addicting and pointless as Facebook, or even checking my lackluster blog. I need to stay focused. Focus is, and always had been, the main objective of my life. In fact, my mind, of course, was supposed to be wired to focus on the things I should be doing. But I fear that my thoughts are drifting more too all the wonderful things I could be doing.
My previous thought resurfaced. So quick, so suddenly.