I sorta lost my momentum today. My muse is singing, he’s tapping on the inside of my skull, telling me I need to be getting his story told…but I sorta just don’t even care anymore.
Creativity feels so stupid sometimes. Like what is the fucking point of any of this shit? Why do I write these words, here on this blog?
There’s an imaginary friend who lives in my head, and he’s telling me I need to write a story. Once upon a time, some shit happened, the end.
Anyway, staring at the screen, and I have to pee.