I'll add to this when I know what I'm doing?
I'm just a motherfucking kid
When I'm writing I go into a magical state where my thoughts are illustrated into words. Between me and the paper there is all the words, images, feelings, pictures, floating, ready for their turn to place themselves upon the piece of literature which can entirely explain the thoughts of one person to another, with ease and interest.
Just as things start looking up, it all goes to shit again.
Time which is enjoyed wasted, is not time wasted.
