Jun 28, 2010 13:28
Now my muse has left me. J** wasn't my muse by any means. He didn't inspire any of the stories I wrote but whatever my muse was, it's gone. When not in bed I've sat at this computer trying to think of how to start the next story. A simple story of a night out. I've had plenty of nights out to inspire me! Some of them some very good stories. But I, for the life of me, can't seem to start writing. And that makes me even sadder because I was really enjoying it! 2 days ago everything was fine. Now, I'm heart broken, I have a dead Cardiologist, and I have no muse. Oh just shoot me. I'm not going to say that I'm suicidal because I know better than to say something stupid like that. That gets you shipped off to a psych ward. But when that next bottle of Klonopin comes to me in about 3 days, it's gonna look mighty tempting. I know permanent answer to short-term problem. Get off my back. I am just mortally tired of my world falling down around me. It's a horrible time to be alive... maybe if I just lay down in the middle of the road...
angry,
men are evil,
pissed off