Fizz

Withdrawals. I don't have the third book in my hands right now. I'm salivating, in anticipation for more. More. I never knew how intrigued I'd be, how fascinated- the storyline is another Romeo and Juliet. Ah, but it's has a few things thrown in it, as well. If you don't know what I am referring to, I'm speaking of the Twlight series by Stephenie Meyer. So sad, I'm going to be in college next year, waiting in anticipation for more books by her...

Life is dreamy.
There are so many ways to escape it, to eliminate the complicated stuff clouding our brains. We all take different steps to inhale the hormones to ease our suffocations. In my ways, it varies. Some days I just lie flat on my back, staring at whatever may be above me, incorporating and indulging in daydreams of the future, or a life I'd never live. With these moments, I sketch out storylines that I'll never finish. I've always had a problem with starting stories and never finishing them. I have to write every word down- I don't trust computers to store my files. You're probably saying, "That's what backups are for, silly," but still. As long as there is no fire, your writing is better kepts written. Not typed.
Since I handwrite everything that comes to mind (with the exception of blogs; I don't want to store my information on the internet unless if I'm completely satisfied with it, which hardly ever happens) it takes forever. I eventually grow exhausted with the idea, abandon it for a few months, a year, maybe never dust off the notebook again.
What is sick is that as soon as I start to read the last few lines that I stopped at, I immediately know where to take off. Somehow my mind has managed to store these plots (over ten incomplete) and allow me to finish them. Of course, that hardly happens unless if I'm truly inspired.

I think I get scared of finishing them. When I did finish one story, it felt so good. It was truly difficult to let go of it, so I immediately began to use the same characters for a sequel. Surprise, surprise, I never finished the sequel.

It took me seven years to finish one composition notebook of ramblings. The last bits were scribbled into on Tuesday this week, and even that was hard to let go.


Ah, to hell with it. I need to finish my damned thoughts if I want to accomplish something with my writing. Effort.

Hej hej,
ANY.