Creative Writing Monologue

Obligated and constrained, I felt like I needed to share. Vacant and emotionless was my voice. When I opened my mouth I wanted to close it once more and never say those words again. The smell of metal and wood making me queasy and the sound of the bland chords emits vexatious emotions. Creating something you hate is beyond bothersome. Scott had given me writing assignments and I wasn’t trying that hard and winging them. I felt guilty slacking off. He was a really good music teacher and had done so much for me. The thing is I just didn’t have any inspiration. My days were all the same, just repeating the motions, life was very vanilla. I always loved writing but I never knew exactly how to. I didn’t know how writing should make you feel …show more content…
This thirty minute ride seemed like ten minutes . Looking down and looking back up again, we are already out of the town where I was surrounded by buildings and other cars. Now I am surrounded by nothing, just fields and a boring scenery. I see the silo and the one turn on this highway which is as straight as a crystalline structure. This is the turn to the studio. Resistance and dreadfulness consume my body. He is going to hate this song, like I do. He is going to tell me I can’t write. Should I just give up? I hesitantly open the squeaky door and drag myself down the stairs. The staircase and all the way down is dark black with the padding that you see is rooms to cancel out sound. I usually find the environment comforting, it’s all about music just like my life. But right now music wasn’t on my side. I find my way to a seat and get out my guitar. He tells me he wants to hear this …show more content…
By the end of the song to my surprise he tells me he likes it. Though that makes me feel a bit better and less like an object to judge I still don’t feel anything from it. He blows off my comments about me not liking it and tried to reassure me that it’s good. “There is a concert at the park down the street next week, let's have you