Contains affiliate links. So. Two weeks off. I take more vacations than an American princess.
If you ask me what I want to do, what I was made to do, even, it’s this. Writing. Writing stories. Creating. Creating this thing that is heart and music and flight and magic. Feeling and being and experiencing everything through my fingers and this screen. Jacking my veins to the machine and just letting it download everything.
Or something like that. But instead, I slouch around all day with petty distractions. Marathoning the first two seasons of Under the Dome
I can’t get anything done when I’m alone, but I get distracted (let myself get distracted) whenever anyone else is around. I’ve dropped out of most of the world, definitely given the finger to adulthood, and for some reason, I still care too much what my freaking family think of me to really commit to just laying around being useless in their presence.
Patterns. Disciplines. I thought I was so disciplined, but my track record of sticking with, well, anything is looking pretty weak. However.
I’m not giving up. Thanks Brian K. Vaughn
No. All of that is bullshit. The real problem is that I’m afraid to full-dive for this next part. Don’t want to let my inner psycho out enough to write the type of twisted crazy that I know is waiting in Cole’s world. Or maybe I don’t want to let the outer darkness in.
It was one thing to start relaxing into Cole’s icy reality, but she’s only a side effect of the heart of darkness that’s consuming her world. Serov’s a direct product, a willing participant. Christ be my lifeline, because I can’t get any further without diving, and I’m not willing to turn and go back.
Friday
Start Time: 10:30 am
Location: couch/living room
Drinking: Jasmine tea
Soundtrack: Ghost Ship’s Costly
