The last time I logged in I remember I was so bored and almost dying. Now, it's all still the same. Some books still lay unread, DVD's unwatched, places so foreign, people I still hide from, papers and notes blank and so much more. I feel so reckless being just myself and I really don't understand why! But, I'm really trying so hard to get out of this kind of block, whatever it is.
I should start writing again, I told myself. Because all the time I wish I would. It's just that I'm too lazy to pick up a pen and wrestle the paper with my thoughts. You heard about how Stephanie Meyer got started with her Twilight series, right? She got the idea from a dream. A dream! Then, she penned it within 3 months. 3 months! After that, she has no intention, whatsoever, to publish the book until her sister read it and persuaded her to freakin' publish it. And there it was, one helluva novel.
For me, hearing this story turns me into a stupid clam. I was a writer, a blogger, and a storyteller to my little brother when he was 3 years old until he learned about The Boy who cried Wolf and how I was only making up those stories I told him before going to sleep. But I couldn't, just couldn't even finish a single book (which I had been writing for years - I stopped counting).
Everyday I write a book. Hmp, put it in the fire.
Sigh, I go again.
I should stop looking at walls because there is an open space just outside the door that's a lot fancier. I need to go out.
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