Have you ever sat and counted how many times the cursor blinks on a blank page? Like it's standing there, tapping it's foot, waiting for me to say something. I can just see it now, arms crossed over it's chest, foot tapping, head cocked to one side with that inquisitive look.
Talk about performance anxiety!
It's worse than having someone standing over your shoulder, reading each word as you type.
Will they catch all the typos before I can edit? Will they quietly nod or shake their head at each sentence formed? Will they find what I have to say stimulating, or will I be forced to nudge them from their slumber?
I know the cursor is there to show us where to begin, and it serves it's function well, but c'mon!
Do we need to have that flashing in our face while we try to think?!
I can't stop focusing on it. It's there after ever character I type and it's aggravating. It pushes me on and makes me have to work.
Like some damn count down clock signalling the end of the world. Do I cut the red wire or the white?
OK, so that's a bit dramatic, but I think you get the point.
All I wanted to do was release that BS that's nagging my mind. Set some freedom to a whirl of "what if?" and "why?" and here I am counting the pulsations of the cursor.

Hm.
It's like the beating of my heart.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Perhaps that's what I truly need to set free.
My heart.

Cursor be damned.
The Cursor