I want to write so many things down! I’m worried that I’m a hump in the road, as far as my writing is concerned. It still flows, but my words aren’t winding together in the way that they used to. Everything seems so contrived and pretentious, I couldn’t see myself speaking these things - but I can hear them aloud in my head. That’s the way I like it. I like the break, the shift - the intonation I can create. If someone were to ever ask me to read my work aloud to them, I would absolutely to do - just to show off my little prizes. I regret being too tired to write things down as they came to me in those minutes before sleeping. A vague memory remains, but nothing that strikes me as it did upon the first thought. A liken myself to a spiral staircase, I know I’ve used that one before. It sounded so much better the first time, when I knew exactly what to say next.
