"Hello?" I unconsciously smile when I hear her angelic voice on the line.

       "Daraaaaaa help meeeeeee!!!" I whine into the receiver. I hear her giggle in amusement.

       "Aigoo, my baby boy must be pooped, huh?" she coos.

       "I want to see youuuuuuuuu." I drag out my words, hoping to move her with my irresistible aegyo.

       It is irresistible...right?

       "Jiyongie, you need to focus on writing. Don't think I forgot that your deadline is in two days!" she scolds lightly. I sigh, not wanting to think about that cursed novel right now.

       "I'll write better if you're here with me!" I try convincing her, but my smart baby girl doesn't fall for that kind of stuff. Unfortunately.

       "Yeah, right. You'll just end up making me watch a movie with you!" Tch. She knows me so well. Well, it was worth a try.

       "Aish. Fine. But you better repay me after the deadline!" I threaten playfully. She chuckles at this.

       "Yeah, yeah. Good luck!" she teases before hanging up. I bring the cellphone away from my ear, looking at the wallpaper picture of me and her in a photo booth. She's sticking out her tongue with a peace sign and I'm smiling at her like the possessive boyfriend I am.

       We're so great together.

       Writer's block is the worst enemy of all writers in all countries. It . I suppose there are lots of different types of writer's blocks, but right now I have the most frustrating one. You know when you have the exact idea and plot and what you want to happen, but you have absolutely no clue how to put it on paper? Everything fits so well in your head but actually writing it is like a death sentence.

       I'm sitting at my desk like a loner staring at my laptop, and I keep picturing the plot in my head, but lo and behold: I'm suddenly no longer eloquent with words and nothing comes out right. How am I supposed to start this new segment of the story? It makes no sense. There's no connection. But is there supposed to be a connection? I grumble gibberish to myself, attempting to melt the word document with my eyes.

       Okay, think. Think of how each character would react. What they would say. Think about how the conversation would happen. Think about...think about Dara.

       There she is again! Dara! How am I supposed to write properly when my beautiful, amazing, talented, cute, funny girlfriend keeps on barging her way into my head?

       But the thing is I want to think about Dara. I like thinking about her. It makes me happy to know that she's mine. She's mine, she loves me, and she promised to never leave me. She even said she wanted to marry me once! Thinking about her makes me joyful, and the only thing I'd rather do than think about her is be with her.

       This doesn't work when I'm trying to write the ending to a novel essentially due in two days! It doesn't work in a lot of situations, now that I think about it. My mind only likes working hard when it comes to fantasizing about Dara.

       NO, not fantasizing about that stuff. Just normal stuff. Amusement parks, restaurants, beaches, vacations...the like. Dara would really like it if I took her to the beach...

       Okay, stop it! The novel!

       Well, the main female character must be feeling happy right now. But how would she express that?

       When Dara is happy, she smiles really widely and claps and sometimes she laughs like a goddess and she hugs me too. When she's REALLY happy, she kis–

       STOP!

       It's now that I start questioning my life choices. Who thought it was a good idea for me to be a writer? Where did I get this dumb idea for this novel? Because it's a horrible idea! Novels are meant to be written and read, not stared down like an impossible math problem...which is precisely what I'm doing right now.

       Dara knows I have a passion for writing, I guess. So she always encourages me to keep on doing it. I get that I like it and stuff, but sometimes I just want to think about Dara. But sometimes I want to just write. But when I'm supposed to write, I actually want to think about Dara. And when I'm supposed to think about Dara (ahem, when I'm with Dara), I end up thinking about what to write.

       My life is full of contradictions. I have a problematic life and you should feel sympathetic for me. Dara definitely does.

       I mean, I get that I need to write this. Deadlines are important, I know. But give me a break, will ya? Girlfriends are important in a committed man's life. I want to spend time with her. Talk to her, hear her voice, watch her eat like a sumo wrestler, play around like a fourth grader, sleep like a baby angel. I want her. And this irritating novel is wagging its in my face, "You can't see her because I'm here!"

       I feel like the ideas for this novel were so amazing when they first popped up in my head. But now they've gone cold and the passionate fire I had burning for this story has been completely drenched. Drenched by Dara.

       The deadline is in two days. I can do this. I grab my emergency headband out of my drawer, a white strip of cloth with "FIGHTING!" scribbled in cute red marker. There's a little cartoon to the side, plus a tiny message that makes me blush like a schoolboy every time I see it. I love you, it says.

       Guess who made that headband for me? If you can't guess that, I question your education.

       I messily put the headband around my forehead and pump my fist, nodding with determination.

       "GO KWON JIYONG!" I yell to myself. My phone rings all of a sudden. The adrenaline in me quiets down and I pick up the phone.

       "Hello?"

       "You just put your fighting headband, right?"

       "Wha...how did you..."

       "GO KWON JIYONG!" my angel yells into the phone, and I can hear her adorable grunts as she fist-pumps along with me. I laugh and we cheer me on together, giggling at each other. After a while, we both hang up and I sigh, feeling uncomfortable with the suddenly suffocating silence.

       I feel helpless. Dara is too extraordinary. Writing is too entertaining. I think of Dara and I can't write. I write and I can't think of Dara.

       I hate writer's block.

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