Thought Process

Words are running across my mind one after the other - words that make no sense, made up words - and I sit at the computer writing them all one after the other. I just write and write but nothing comes out of it, none of it makes any sense. It’s all just a bunch of disconnected words, but I know that this is the piece of work that will win me a Nobel Prize for literature. I just need to keep writing. I go to a friend of mine and show him the hard copy of my work, gleaming from ear to ear, knowing that this has been my best work yet, but he takes one look at it and a confused expression comes over his face. I take the book from him and open it to find that its blank – all the words have disappeared, or perhaps they were never really written in the first place.