Moment of truth; the blog is up, the night is late and the screen is empty, except the blinking cursor that seems to already be mocking me. Will I be able to write? I can feel the anxiety rise. The pressure is on. I need to find a subject, anything; may it be about curtains or todays dinner consisting of half-cooked noodles in water with a bit of uncertain taste of beef. Or shrimp. The clock is ticking. It has already been 14 minutes and midnight is crawling closer. Whatever I’ll write, it will have to be done and published before midnight, or it’s all a failure. Anxiety bubbles up more rapidly. Pick a subject, anything and then scribble down words, words and some more words. Perhaps a joke. How do one tell a joke? I better google it. I look at the clock and realize it has been another 5 minutes. There’s no time for jokes. Barely any time for subjects either. Just put down some words, they don’t even have to make sense or belong to each other. It’s a blog. It’s not like anyone will read, and if someone does read… well, I’ll just refer to it as art. That always covers everything. “This shit makes no sense”, “it doesn’t have to, it’s art”, “ah, I see… Well then, this is amazing, let’s share it on Facebook”. Tada, 500 new followers in less than 30 minutes thanks for random words put together in a jiffy. Writing isn’t so hard after all now, is it?