In the last 3 weeks, my relationship with writing has shifted, a little every day.
We can no longer just be lovers; we have to be partners (in crime or otherwise) as well now.
This is me, discovering what it is to write for a living, instead of writing for love. Theoretically speaking, Love trumps Life. In reality, hardly so.
Things have been happening, all at the same time. I know this is a new, exciting time and that I should be happy – I just can’t muster the enthusiasm for it.
I keep feeling like I need a rest. A day, or two. Or a handful. Just some time, I guess.
But time is precisely what I don’t have.
Cheers to adulthood, darlings.