i may or may not be coming to terms with the the possibility of never being a published writer. or i may be coming to terms with the fact that i am more enamored at the idea of being a writer than actually being a writer. it doesn't consume me. it doesn't come out of it. it doesn't do anything to me. this could be an insanely indefinite drought of a writer's block, or it could be the end game. i don't have a voice and i don't have a dream. i'm not trippin, but i think i'm being honest.
i don't seem that tense. do i?
i need to borrow your tape recorder.
