I sit on my bed, with my laptop balancing on my thighs. The words come fast, I type without looking at the keys. The words slow gradually then stop. I read my disjointed thoughts and erase them with a push of a button. My hair falls over my eyes as I face plant on the keyboard.
"That's not attractive, love" The heavily, accented voice does nothing for my mood.
I refuse to lift my head, "Go away, I'm moping."
"That you are, for near a week now." He was standing right by my bed, but I refused to acknowledge him.
"What is the problem?" His laborious tone, showed just how much he didn't care.
I peak at him through my hair. I could only see his black suit jacket. "Oh, nothing just me, I 'm a waste of space."
"I see your being dramatic...again." He swiped a hand over my duvet before gingerly sitting.
I lift my head and blow wayward strands of hair out of my face. "You are so unhelpful."
He looks with unchecked disgust at my room. " I abhor sympathy" He smirks at me, his green eyes glinting devilishly in the dim light.
"I abhor you then." I spout back, his thin frame somehow managed to crowd the end of my bed.
"Now I am concerned, that held none of your usual scorn." He leaned up against my wall, and studied me. "Perhaps, a change in your surroundings. This room is dreary, and it is starting to smell."
I kick at him, "Your sitting on my foot."
He begrudgingly adjusted.
"For your information, I like it dreary it inspires my inner poet." I said with a practiced brooding look.
"Pathetic, you hate poetry." He said in his most condescending tone.
"Shut up, stop pestering me or I will do something." I mumble, clicking through folders on my desktop at an attempt to look busy.
"Idle threats," He brushed a hair off of his jacket. "You have written nothing for a month."
I pick up, one of the books that lay by my bed and throw it at him. It bounces harmlessly off his shoulder, sadly it had been a paperback.
He picked it up, "'Ink Spell', sounds dull." He leafed through the pages, "It seems to be just another distraction to keep you from your work."
"You're a distraction, and if you don't leave me alone. I will make Belle leave you."
He sighed and shut the book, "You couldn't possibly do that."
"I don't see why not." I said, with a sharp glare.
"Because you're not angry at me, your anger lies with yourself." He said it with a pitying look I would love to see smacked from his face.
I stick my tongue out at him, "I hate it when your right." I sigh dramatically. "What should I do then?"
"Your asking me?" He said, his sudden modest tone infuriates me.
"No I'm asking my cat." I roll my eyes, and go back to ignoring him.
"I only exist in your imagination, I can't tell you something you have no knowledge of."
I nudge him with my foot, "Indulge me."
He manged to look almost contrite, "I imagine writing would be a great start."
"I imagine you are a nuisance," I said bitterly, but of course he was gone.
He had been pulled back into his world.A world built of white pages and black ink. A world I try to make sense of everyday.
He had been as always, incredibly unhelpful.