Being able to write, and in turn immerse myself in another world is both a blessing and a curse. I'm sure that others are of this opinion, and if at the moment you read this you only see the benefits, then perhaps you haven't dedicated yourself enough to your work. I think sometimes it's difficult for others to understand this, at least those who deal with their emotions head-on, certainly not like me. I have my escape, though I wouldn't say that I have plunged fully into escapism in my writing, at least not for a couple of years. Still, going for so long writing every single day in my main series, if not the current story at least an anthology or a new entry in the encyclopaedia, and then suddenly not, I think it's starting to take its toll on me.
Usually, in my current state of what I like to call "mental rhapsody", I would write. I would translate all of my feelings into the emotions of my characters, either a direct mirror or myself, or inverting it, turning the intensity of hatred into love and so forth. Now, however, I'm unable to do that. A computer issue means that my darling little laptop has gone off to be fixed, leaving me without my files and any way to express myself. I do try, I've been in this situation before, often when I'm on a school holiday and my laptop is forbidden. I try each time to stop myself from falling into this strange sense of dreariness I get, often affecting me when I'm not having fun and exploring another country. Usually it's in those solitary moments, when I'm relaxing with my roommates in the interim of curfew and bedtime, that I start to fall into this state. By now, I see it as inevitable, so simply try and keep myself busy.
Now, however, not only am I going to bed at nine because of little to do, but I'm spending a lot more time in reality than I think is healthy. Coincidentally, I'm studying Prufrock at the moment:
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea/ By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown/ Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
Those words stick with me, they're exactly how I feel at certain times, yet I continue to wish for the fantasy, knowing the risk I take. I made my sacrifice long ago when I decided to pursue a writing career, I think that was when I gave up a certain slice of normalcy, I clutched it in my hands, and knowing all that would follow, tossed it into the wind...