She takes a sip of her rum and coke and sits it on her desk. The "Liquid Courage" goes down her throat..warming it as it travels south..... She then sits it back on the desk. The condensation from the glass slowly falling down unto the helpless virgin wood below. The computer sitting in front of her. And yet....she is unsure what to write about.

A lost love? All of the men she has cared for? Her troubled past? All those have been done before. What can she write about that is "fresh and new" to readers abroad? What can she write about that would be considered new and exciting material? She sits and thinks. The clock ticks...and tocks..tick tock tick tock.

She becomes enraged with her instability and unability to come up with new writing material. She takes another sip of her devilish concoction of "fire water"...................

"Let the alcohol into my veins", she thinks.

Its like an IV slowly helping her forget her misery and her pain she has felt before. The more she pours it the better she feels...or better yet the "LESS" she feels. She becomes almost as a corpse feeling nothing at all.

She sits like a zombie in front of the screen.....what else can she say???

She realizes the subject she would love to rant over....why she became frustrated. Too much had went on. Too many people had given up too. It was not just her. She felt this unattainable task was thrust upon her as well as them so suddenly without warning. Almost like a giant wave that engulfed them all before they could prepare themselves. They could no longer write freely on a whim about what ever tickled our fancy! But instead had to keep coming up with more and more. Slowly bleeding all of them dry.

And for what? Who was it for? Not her, not anyone. Not the creative and artistic individuals who thrive in this place. Who work daily on making their hubs the best they can be.

So who then reaps the benefits of so much work in so little time?

Many know who.

But was it all worth it?

Making it so crazy that everyone was too focused on themselves more than reading another's work. So preoccupied with busting out new material, not stopping to think whether it would be appealing to their regular fans or not.

Just popping out one after another onto the endless conveyor belt of Hubs. Every writer became just as the exploited children that one would find in a third-world country sweatshop. Taking advantage of our skills, our hard work, our passions just for what? The 'Almighty Dollar'?

She says to herself again...."was it really worth it?"

"Am I expecting an answer? No, not really."

But She must tell the truth. She needs say how she feels. Just as other brilliant hubbers on there have spoke out on it. She felt the same way as them and now she chose to take her turn to speak out.

She came back as did a few others.

Why? Because although it may be about money to some. It is not for her. She missed her friends. As well as missing sharing her work to others and reading the hubs of her best friends there. This was a place of fun and peace at one time. A place of sanctuary to escape the everyday stresses and dramas of ordinary life. To retreat off to the imaginary BAR where everyone knows each other..... And she definitely missed this place enough to take the good with the bad.

And although she does not agree with this challenge.....She could not leave HP forever.

Sitting at the desk.....she contemplates writing about all that has just ran through her mind. Should she post it? Should she not? And really would anyone care now? Would anyone have time to read it? She knows there are still a few of them left out there, loyal and true waiting for her next hub. Well....the wait is over!!!!