Trite, but seemingly true: happiness doesn't breed much in the way of writing, and not only because you find yourself spending more time with the source of that happiness than at the computer.
Maybe it's only an initial thing, and will wear off once regular behavior patterns are formed. Maybe those patterns are already emerging; this is the first night in a while that I haven't spent with Linda, or anyone else for that matter, and the quiet unease I'd grown accustomed to and made the most of is seeping back in, and back out into the pages of Unheimlich. It's very reassuring, knowing that I haven't traded one form of happiness for another, but I'm curious as to when a real point of equilibrium will be reached, and if it's necessary in the first place.
I could really use a drink right now, but when was the last time I said that and didn't mean it?
No comments:
Post a Comment