It starts out innocently enough. "I'm bored," you think to yourself. "Maybe writing will give me something to do. It'll be one of those creative outlets my therapist is always pestering me to find."
So you set up a blog somewhere. Maybe you sign up for a free Wordpress account. That's not important.
What is important is that things will seem fine at first. You'll come home in the evenings and write about some entertaining thought that flitted through your head during the course of the day. You'll be oblivious to the literary monster you've crapped into your editor, and happily publish it for the world to scrutinize.
Nobody will read anything you write, but this is also not important.
What is important is that soon, things will start to change. The blog, once a distraction from the toils of everyday life, will begin to feel like more and more of a burden. You'll feel it invading your creative process; your every waking moment will be preoccupied in an impotent frenzy, trying to nail down the topic of your next big post.
Your mind will uselessly wander during your morning commutes to work. Your evening commutes home will be underscored with a sense of lingering frustration. Nothing will seem interesting any more. Nothing will seem worth writing any more.
You'll get home, and manage to crank out a post anyhow, somehow pretending to transcribe the words from an entirely blank page that has been sitting in the typewriter of your mind for months. You'll awaken from these half-dazes of authorship to some dinky limerick about badgers or soup. You'll go to sleep, slightly less of a person.
You'll eventually realize that the reason for your persistent writer's block is, quite simply put, a lack of any true writing ability. Your one outlet? Yet another of your many flaws, another manifestation of your utter incompetence. Each post you've written is just another piece of evidence on the trail: Exhibits A, B, and C, if it pleases the court.
This trend will continue for a few more weeks, the blog slowly sapping away at your will to write, to live, claiming bits and pieces of your soul. Every day will bring with it new insecurities, new feelings of remorse for the talent you once imagined you had.
But hey, it starts out innocently enough.