I've got some writings to do, some stories lined up to pen down. The desire, making every fiber in my heart (Idontactuallyrememberiftherrisfiberintheheart LOL) to go ahead with the book I started and just get done with it. Ideas, boiling inside my head waiting to burst out of this cesspool of thoughts and trickle down into ink on paper, or pixels in the digital world but its hard. The writers block has made me lazy. I feel, at times, not writing anymore and that somewhat scares me but I need to and might as well accept it. One should accept and adapt to changes. It doesn't mean that once you fall in love with someone or something you really admire and feel safe doing, that it'll stay with you forever, nothings lasts forever after all. It just flies away like dust does. Tiny fragments that disappear within a glitch on time and you don't even realize. I start something and sometimes just leave it, like there is something missing, like a part of me doesn't want to do it anymore. Fhoofh. Its just kinda weird. I need to start a Sidney Sheldon novel asap I guess.
PS. Believe it or not I wrote 'Travelled' in the title. Thanks to Chrome spellchecker it didn't go that way. Huehheheheehhehe. :P
