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Staring ahead, the snow white image burned into his retina as an avalanche of despair washed over him at his inability to cope at this precise moment. The deep silence of the room was broken only by a small quiet voice which mocked him, taunting him of his inadequacy. With the pressure rising, he felt the familiar need to do something, anything and he knew, with resignation, that his Procrastinator Writers Disorder was flaring up again…