I've lost my will to write.
I think of poems and they leak around my teeth like water in the shower.
I think of stories and as soon ad a relationship is creative and strung together, I forget it, and it is unraveled.
I'm 27 now. I feel like nothing has changed in the years I've graduated college. I've moved geographically, and I left a job that made me suicidal, but still I'm just a paper pusher. My job is a far cry from a career, and my boss is offended I think so.
I try to think as my life beginning anew daily, but the wonder is fading. I'm too tired. I thought moving up here would be better for my writing...I thought I'd have written a novel by now, in these 10 months...but no. I've very little to show for it.
I'll work on it, but I'm not expecting much. Classes start September 24th, so I'll be working 7am-3:30pm Monday through Friday, going to classes from 6-10pm Monday through Thursday, working my second job Friday afternoon and over the weekend, and seeing my CASA during the weekend also. Along with studying. And trying to not neglect my dogs. And maintain a healthy emotional place. And not die.
Let's see it how it goes, shall we?
Wish me luck.
