So, here I am. Trying to write, but not getting past the second paragraph. Crap. Usually I have a problem with the first sentence, then I'm fine. It looks like my writer's block is spreading. Soon, it will be a full blown disease. Which I guess it has been for the last year and a half, since I haven't written anything in that long...

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God, I need a fucking boyfriend. Or a life. Yeah, a life would be good. I hate this whole, "hibernate/drift through the bad times" routine. Why am I writing this here, and not in my special little journal of mysteries? Eh, I don't know. I'm drinking too much caffeine, I'm on edge, and I want to WRITE, but I have the hardest fucking time even ( Read more... )