I have been sitting here for thirty minutes, just staring at the monitor, thinking, typing, and deleting words and thoughts that have been evading me for years. Still nothing comes to mind. No character, no plot, not even an idea of what to write. Maybe this is what happens when you stop writing. Abandoning your passion totally, and stop dreaming. Sometimes I regret doing this to myself, surrendering to the circumstances in my life, blindly. Just giving up that is me, that is mine and surrendering to the monotony, shallowness and redundancy that kills the artist inside.