I desperately want to use this blog as a place to write fictional stories or any stories for that matter, but every time I think to enter into this blog world that is not just tumblr, I don’t seem to have a creative bone left in me. I guess this blog is more of a diary on when I write and how I write and the research I do for stuff. It is also a place for me to put small things I have written just so they have a home.
I guess it is just a mess.
But I digress…
I desperately need a new project, or to pick up where I left off on Forgive Me City. I feel like I’ve changed too much to complete it. I need to write. At least it sure seems like it. I do not think the same way as everyone else. I absorb things differently. I feel like I can imagine people who need a person like me to write things down. I feel like I’ve been looking for someone to see things the way I do. I can’t imagine that there aren’t people out there like me. The thing is, people like me never finish things. People like me become someone else in the process of trying. I think this because it feels as if I am. And I don’t know if that’s the procrastination, now five years strong, or if it’s the truth.
That’s the real dilemma.
I think I may try and crash an English class this semester.