they say the best cure for writers block is to write your way through it.
consider this my stream of consciousness battle plan.
Lately my thoughts have been distant. Like old friends that won't return my calls. I feel like part of me is somewhere else; like some large chunk of myself is hidden away discovering something and not telling the rest of me what it is.
It's so easy to get distracted from things. You think you get a reliable system going, and before you know it, you're gallivanting around town and it's two days later and you don't know where your weekend went. Time stops and starts, speeds up and slows down; I'm just sat quietly on the train watching everything go by.
What is this disconnect? It is not sadness, but it isn't quite calm.