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23 May 2005 @ 04:31 pm
This is a total emergency.  
I have broken my ability to write. I don't know how. I don't know when. All I know is that you say to me, "Nifra, write me something!"

And I'll write: "It was dark." and then spend hours staring at that sentence and trying very hard not to follow it with "And stormy. A dark night filled with stormy darkness. And people. There were people in the stormy darkness."

Then I'll get filled with a very intense hatred for the written word, and pout, and go read things I love, and become despondent.

I am one with the despond. I have hatred and despond. I am swimming through a lake of hatred and despond. This lake is called my writing and I have no floaties to help me swim through it.

Total. Emergency.

It seems like all I want to do lately is write autobiographical essays about the insane things that happen in my life, but that's not what I really *want* want, it's just all I can do.

What do you do when in such a quandry, gentle readers? And why do I feel the need to use the phrase 'gentle reader' incessantly these days? Riddle me that, gentle readers, riddle. me. that.
 
 
Current Mood: moodymoody
Current Music: harry and the potters - the foil (malfoy)
 
 
 
Adoable Frunk: good of the podlyra_sena on May 24th, 2005 05:58 am (UTC)
I am swimming through a lake of hatred and despond. This lake is called my writing and I have no floaties to help me swim through it.

Would this lake happen to reside in The Deep with the giganto citrus and firecracker spitting fish? Cause if so, I wanna go there. Just without all the hatred and despond. I'm allergic to despond.

And so, my dear podlet, really, you must find some swimmies and tug them on your arm, paddle back to shore, and fret not. *snugs*