For Harder Reading
I have reason for the long absence. A very sad, sad reason. My writing. All that I had planned to publish, all that I had planned to enhance, is gone. 2 years of writing. 5 books, 3 drafts, unknown poems, 50+ short stories. Completely wiped from the face of human existence. I'd blame technology, but it's my fault it was never backed up. So I sit before you, a man stripped of his literary past. I cannot say if I will return. I feel so broken and...despondant. I mean, cheated is the best way to put it. Literature was my ticket out of this town. My fucking ticket. I have no other redeeming talents. I'm most certainly no model. I don't even have a freaking job. I'm useless. And now I don't even have the one solace I could fall back on. The one bit of this world that saved me in my darkest hour. The pen saved me once...and now I have returned to that place...someone pass me a pen. I think I need saving once more.