I don't

want to go back there, inbetween those pages, and type it up, and pull more stuff out, and put it down, I don't want to feel those things, go further, deeper in, feel their feelings. It brings them alive in me.
I don't want to feel those words!!

"suck it up baby. If you really want to write, you have to. Now you know, courage is not facing the blank page, but the act of filling one. Going where it takes you."
I feel like I am bleeding, being drained, light headed and pale.
"Don't be so melodramatic (for goodness sakes, there are people in the world starving, and being beaten).
You know the drill. You breathe life into me, and I'll breathe life into you. That is how stories work. Keep going. It sucks more and terrifies you more because you are getting closer".
Closer to what?
"To where you need to go. To that which calls. Now stop hiding here, and go"
I don't want to go
"I hear Nana singing, "You can't go over it, you can't go under it, you've got to go through, you've got to go through." And anyway, who is afraid of words on a page?"
It isn't words on a page. It is an ocean of feelings. That want to drown me, swallow me down
"yeah, an ocean of feelings that you need to go through. You believe you are standing in the shallows, you think you can stand there forever, halfsoaked, at times cold and miserable, but at other times, taken with delight by the sight and sounds around you. You think you can stay there safe, waiting waiting waiting, afraid to go in deeper. But, you know, you can't turn around, you can't, you are already far (miles and miles) from shore, that is the terror that you feel, your feet not touching bottom, not knowing how deep it is under you, and what lies between, you are approaching the heart of its depth, the center of the ocean, you are no longer standing on shore, you let the currents carry you along because it seemed easy, but now are surprised to find you are deep in, treading water, there is no where to hide, it exists wherever you are, insists on being told to you, known to you. Your feet dangling, in the depths of the ocean, the vastness of space as you're falling through, the center core of you, universes overlapping. It would be best to dive in and start swimming, for it is the only way. Through"

"wimpy, whiner, crybaby, weakling, scaredy cat, chicken, wuss."

yeah, well, whatever, it is now time for this wimpy whiner crybaby weakling scaredy-cat chicken wuss to go to bed.
It was just so much easier when I knew what happened in the story, but didn't feel it happening.

creating, touching. Touching, creating.

"go to bed. But tomorrow, you will give two hours"
"P.S. Whining for two hours doesn't count"