Stagnant

I’m so frustrated.

With myself, my home, my lack of accomplishments.

My stagnant bowls. ugh.

I don’t do anything, but why. why am i so afraid

even now i feel my mind telling me to stop writing, RIGHT NOW.

i’m terrified I’ll be disgusted, terrified that the words won’t come.

terrified that it’s impossible for me.

There’s something i need to tell myself that’s stuck in the back of my mind and throat. I feel it like a tug at my skull. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I need to do something before i go crazy/insane

Elliot’s waiting for me to write about him already. He’s waiting for his story. His life and the characters stuck in my head are waiting to be put down on paper. I can’t go anywhere until I go to him.

Elliot.

Tiara.

Victor.

Seth Nader.

Lala.

characters I don’t even know exist are just waiting to spill from me.