I am struggling to write a post. The literary soul is departing my body. I miss the times when I can furiously scribble valiant verses without pause and sleep late at night thinking of a fitting title.
How do you continue to write anyway? How does Citybuoy and Evan and Jerron continually supply themselves with stories to tell? How do you breath literature to such commonplace circumstances?
My head is a giant question mark. Maybe my experiences are far behind compared to these writing giants. I don't want to lose hope that I can't be a good writer. Maybe I haven't been writing much.
I am a child fascinated by a giant red balloon floating through the horizon. I want to catch that balloon, but please tell me how.