All day I’ve been trying to think of something to write. I really like writing fiction, willing worlds with people and adventures into existence with either a pencil or a keyboard, but I don’t feel confident enough to really share any of that and whenever I read it back to myself it just sounds lame. I like writing like this where I can just scoop thoughts from my head directly to the screen, it’s a lot more comfortable because it just feels like I’m talking to a person I can’t see. The only problem is it’s hard to keep a conversation with myself, sitting at my desk I’m looking at the things dotting the fake wood. I got my old DSI XL with Pokémon pearl still in it, I got a bunch of these little magnetic things I mess with when I’m bored. I see an old Van Halen CD case my dad gave to me, its 1984, the one with the baby with angel wings and a cigarette on the front, the disk isn’t in there because my dad lost it. I have a ruler I just used for a chemistry assignment, there’s a big imprint on it from when I dropped it once and accidently set my chair on it. Looking at everything on my desk reminds me that there really is a story to everything, I just can’t think of stuff like this when I write fiction. It’s hard to think of a whole world because everything has to make sense when a reader imagines it in their head, what exactly are you imagining right now? No matter what you’re thinking my desk looks like you could never have guessed I have a small pile of life saver candy, you couldn’t have known I have a Deadpool bobble head next to my computer monitor, I never even mentioned the coin jar on the far side of my desk that has exactly two dollars and thirty two cents in it. That’s just my desk, what do you think the rest of my room looks like, my bed, my closet. It would take a whole book to describe my bedroom. I’m just making excuses, I’m my own worst critic, and the things I write have to be a little good right? I’ve spent forty minutes writing this tiny rambling of thoughts, the burning Florida sun has set behind a palm tree and I won’t see it again until after school tomorrow. But now the only thing I can think about is if I’ll get a decent grade on this when I turn it in and share in front of the class. I don’t want to have to think about that, I guess wrapping up here is as good as any.