...

In the middle of July a boy sits down to write an article for a blog that has not been updated in over a month. He sits and stares at the white, the piercing white, that seems to swallow up the whole screen. The little vertical line is blinking, waiting to be pushed aside by the words rushing in to fill the white. Nor words come. Still, the line blinks.
Ages pass. The white remains, the line blinks, no words have filled the void. Tides rise and fall, stars die, continents shift, grandchildren become ancestors, the centuries fall in and out, and the page remains blank. Time stands still, time dies. No words. The boy's no writer. Why should he write?
So he writes...about not writing. As he doesn't write, there aren't words, and the page does not begin to fill. The little line does not move from its spot and the words do not rush in to push it aside. The boy does not update the blog, and the writing that wasn't written does not get published.
This is how the boy is left, with a blank page on the computer screen that was never written on.