To be honest, it is now... 8 a.m.? I've been drawing a blank since midnight. This is one of the slow days for me I guess. I've done a few extra stories but set them aside just because they didn't feel right (will probably revisit them later on), so instead of forcing a story out I decided to write something a little more reflective and asked myself: Why do I write? I know... boring. I promise to overdose on nyquil, and hopefully my dog will wake me up before he does anything "shitty" to the carpet.
It's the start of a nice week off, so I do promise better stories as I rest up (will just be staying at home), more writing exercises, polish up some old works, and write write write.
*picture is originally from http://www.theorange.co/surreal-photography-by-chema-madoz/
01/22/2014 (Wednesday)- To Give Definition
I work to live but it isn’t what defines me.
I live to write yet that’s just one part of me.
The stories I pen are really just lies that my other half tells, and the confessions I make are never in church but in glossy black ink, a stark reality given meaning by the white space of our differing perspectives and moral stance.
But why do you write? I hear you ask.
To find balance, definition, to find order in my own chaos.
To connect, share, entertain, to make the world just a little bit lighter.
To be me.