Here I am in front of my computer, writing and writing and writing until I can't feel my fingers on the keyboard or my butt on my chair. Just writing. Keep writing, and everything will be okay.
The anxiety attacks won't come if my mind is leaking words onto a Word document. Did you know those documents are powerful? They hold my entire world and many others.
Today I feel like writing. There are so many things I could write about. And I begin:
"Gaara-sama!" a pink-haired Kunoichi yells, making her way to the young Kazekage's office door.
The redhead lifts his tired gaze from a stack of papers that need his signature right away or the elders will have more "age dilemmas," as he secretly calls them. Maybe if they weren't so old and worn down, things could move a lot slower. Gaara liked slow. Being rushed just made him edgy.
"What can I do for you, Sakura-chan?" he wonders aloud in annoyance.
The papers in front of him begin screaming his name. "Gaara-kun~ Gaara-kun, we know you can hear us~ Take that pen of yours and press it on us! Press it hard!"
"Tsunade-sama needs these papers signed-"
I can't publish this crap. What am I thinking? There's no set plot or character backbone or anything.
Backspace. Just keep holding down the backspace key.
I'm now staring at a blank document. Again.
A siren is heard from outside and I frown. Oh, the daily sounds of a ghetto city. You've got to love it.
Let's try this again, shall we?
This was the day. The one day out of months that Gaara-sama had the day off. Well, only he knew it was his day off. To everyone else, it was, "CODE RED. THE KAZEKAGE HAS ABANDONDED US! THE PAPERWORK IS PILING UP! WHATEVER SHALL WE DO WITHOUT GAARA-SAMA?"
Screw the paperwork. He wasn't the only one in that damn office who knew how to pick up a pen and write, "Kazekage Gaara" on sheets of paper. And if he was, then hell, that village was doomed.
Gaara examined the house. Doors: locked. Windows: locked and covered.
Temari and Kankuro had gone on an escort mission, leaving the youngest sibling alone for a few days.
He kicked off his trousers into the corner, lifted his shirt over his head to join the discarded clothing, and reclined on the couch in only his boxers. With a sigh of relief, his hand slipped under the elastic and…
Oh my gosh, what's wrong with me? This is even crappier than that crap I came up with before.
Gaara is completely out-of-character. First; he wouldn't take a day off just because he wanted to. Two; hand in his boxers. What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. Me?
Maybe I'm approaching this all wrong. Maybe…just maybe, I need to take a step back and revert to my sixth grade writing talents. Back to the beginning.
Could you believe I started writing about Gaara without even reading about him in the manga or watching an episode with him in the anime? Ugh. Stupid move. But hey, I was twelve. Nobody remembers. Except me.
Here we go:
My name is Ikaruma and I'm ten and I'm madly in love with Gaara and he loves me too. Gaara is twelve.
Oops. We had sex and now I'm pregnant. But that's okay. Even though I'm only ten, I'm the best Shinobi in the world and I can do anything. I even tamed Gaara's raccoon thing. He loves me so much.
We're going to have SUCH a happy family.
Because he's Gaara's baby, Hito was born with some of Shukaku and was born in only three months and is super powerful, but not as powerful as me. Yay.
Close, but no cigar.