You stare at the blinking cursor.
That menacing straight line, appearing and disappearing, amidst the vast white nothingness, seemingly mocking you to no end, as if to call your attention to the fact that you’re stuck, you can’t think of anything worth putting out for the world to see. As if they would give a shit, you tell yourself.
Your eyes wander across your bedroom. Those blue walls surrounding you, devoid of anything because you are not a fan of hanging posters or images. Wait, do people still hang posters and pictures at their walls? Maybe the wall is a metaphor to your life, devoid of anything interesting to talk about.
You snorted at your little imaginary conversation with yourself. How platitudinous. Or was it hackneyed? Boring perhaps? I guess that little conversation itself proves a point, that often you engage in mental activities without any, well, point.
Someone you’re talking to on FB just replied back. You immediately grabbed your phone, fumbling while trying to open the damn thing. Because hey, you are (supposed to be) writing right now. Ah, but you need to be inspired, you tell yourself. If you are inspired, then whatever it is that you put your mind into you’ll be able to achieve.
The mind is infinitely complex. So complex, among all the things that you were interested in pursuing back in high school, you chose to explore it. Because understanding the complexities of the superstring theory and how the four physical forces of strong, weak, electromagnetism, and gravity can be combined through using higher-dimensional mathematics, does not help you in understanding them. Or understanding her. And so you ended up on a course that people kept mistaking for a fortune teller or psychic (“Hey hey, can you read minds?!”). Well you cannot read minds nor move objects with your mind now, but you ended up having second thoughts about everything, and trying to analyze (and overanalyze) situations through having conversations with yourself, such as this one now.
The person you are talking to mention something about knowing intentions of others. Reading minds through behavior can be done, but relies on stereotypes we have on other people, as well as prior experiences. These data significantly colors our perception of the causes of behaviors of people around us. What might be a simple act of thanking you personally might be framed as an opportunity to catch your attention.
Of course, this was not what you told her. Nor the fact that you always find yourself smiling when you see her. Well, you tell yourself, because she’s so inquisitive, and she likes to talk about things that you also like.
Your head suddenly jerked upward. For a moment you were disoriented, you were supposed to be doing something. Lying on your stomach just after eating a heavy meal while doing your paper is probably one of the ideas you are not proud of. You half-remember those train of thoughts you never realized you can have.
And as you ponder all of them, the life devoid of interesting things, superstring theories and FB messages and stereotypes, and her, you stare on that blinking cursor, that menacing vertical line, amidst the vast, white nothingness.