i… love… writing… wha?
Okay. They told me this would happen, so I was kind of prepared. It’s called the mid-month crisis. Well, maybe it’s not called that. I made that up to make it sound cooler. But you know what I’m on about. Well, it’s here. I have it. No surprises there.
The strange thing is the way it manifests itself. I seem to have too many things I want to blog about. I’ve started three posts already, erasing each at an early stage, adding it to my ‘blog ideas.doc’ and thinking screw this, I’ve got something better for today.
Doctor, should I be worried? This feels a bit like when you’re so in love with something or someone and you try to talk about it, and all that comes out is this excited gushing noise, as though the flow of words is choking you from the inside.
/…/ Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
Strive to be interess’d; what can you say to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more nor less.
I think I am in love with writing. So much in love I can’t actually write anything. I hope the day will come when I’ll be as good at it as I am obsessed with it. Meanwhile – oh.