February 06, 2011

Week 3 : The Trouble of Inspiration

She lay in the middle of her living room, surrounded by a big chaos of papers, food leftovers and tissues. Her eyes were closed. The sound of her own breath was the only noise in the room. It was probably even the only sound to be heard in the whole flat. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and lifted the blue diary, which had been lying on her chest, over her face. She stared at it for a while, searching. Thinking. Reading something she had written. Tears of despair started to roll down her cheeks with every word she soaked in and before she could even finish reading she grabbed the page furiously and tore the paper out.

She sat up and searched for a pen, never bothering about the aspect of her room, which resembled a scenery after a battlefield. She picked up her diary again and started writing. But only a few seconds later her eyes wandered off again and fell on some chocolate bar papers at her feet. With fury she rose from her seat and kicked it away, she crossed the room with quick, heavy steps and then faced herself in a mirror. Her eyes full of anger and disgust were staring back at her. She covered her face with her arms and pulled her hair with frustration. The expression looking back at her from the mirror was red now. A few seconds passed and then her face relaxed. She studied her reflection, her hair, her eyes, her body. Slowly her mouth shaped into a smile and that smile then turned into a bigger smile and then she burst into laughter. She just laughed at her self, all her earlier frustrations forgotten. With tears of laughter in her eyes she then looked at herself in the mirror, “You're crazy sometimes”, she said.

- Isabel Meine F. Vigil

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