Sometimes I can feel it, when I write here.

The words that pour out of my mouth and flood my keyboard are perfect. They resonate. Each one has a place and each one is in its place. These are the entries that people comment on.

Why can't I tap into those vibrations during my regular writing?

I want to write stories.

I want to be paid to sit in a dark room with a pair of pretentiously oversized headphones and make up stories.

I want to be Neil Gaiman, except, you know, me instead.

I must do it. I have to do it. No more excuses.

No more excuses for anything.

I'm getting my gun license this sunday. Yes, I am.

Good times.

.

Rosie.

Before&After