I just want to write.

My thoughts as of late have been a little scattered. My brain fights with my thoughts, and my body fights with my brain. It’s frustrating but familiar at this point. Sometimes I can reason out of the pressure, write like a madman. Other times, I can’t, and have a nothing day.

I acknowledge my thoughts have been scattered as of late. I can’t seem to acknowledge my knowledge in writing. Poetry, short stories–scifi, fantasy–I hope to improve on horror. It’s frustrating being unfamiliar with something. Even though, I once handled poetry like a poet. Other times, I wrote a confusing story.

Sometimes I acknowledge I tend to mix it all together. It helps the scattered, helps the focus of my thoughts. My brain fights to acknowledge myself and fights to give me a reason to write. Horror and any other–I want to write like a mad man. Other times, I want to fight–

It’s funny how scattered thoughts tend to find their way together. Into to something less, but meaningful for me. Finding that sweet spot between black and white. A story is a story, whether from the heart the mind. Other times–

I just want to write.

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