Okay, so it's true. All of it. I have an enemy that confounds me at every step, forces me to do things I'd rather not and sometimes sends me into fits of morose despondence or bestial anger and frustration. Why do I let this be? How did I lead myself to this moment? Only to escape but then return to it again and again as if it were some pernicious drug that I am addicted to? Because that's precisely what it is. A drug. A balm. An enemy to be vanquished when I finally get over my moments of weakness and indecision and decide to deal with this enemy head-on. Perhaps I'll take the easy and most sensible way out and make friends? Maybe I'll smile and make googly eyes at this creature in the hope that I can sneak up on it and take it by surprise? Either way I'm afraid I must face it... time after time, over and over again... because I must. And face it I will, until once again I conquer it and send it scurrying back into the shadows from whence it came, knowing that I am again its victor. This craven enemy... this haughty tormentor... this blank page.