Why do most of my writing inspirations come up at late nights, when I am fatigued and unable have the luxury of time to finish my thoughts? Is time truly measurable? Or is it more metaphorical? It looks linear, but really, is it not circular?
Speaking of time… what’s with the kids in our generation having short attention spans? We never seem to focus for a long time, whether it be working on a project or studying for an exam. There are way too many distractions. The world wide web ranks number 1, then our own weak wills follows closely behind.
Why is my thinking and writing specific to my computer (or a particular one that “feels” right), or else I can’t write? The last time I tried writing somewhere else, it took me an hour and a half just to proofread a draft that I had written the night before…
Why do I sacrifice sleep for my writing? Is it really that important? Why do inspirations come late at night, when it’s silent and dark? And do I owe it a documentation? What if I don’t write it down and it never comes back? Do I find something else to lament or do I go back and attempt a search for a less satisfying topic, like…
You fall for me yet you don’t know me. You fail to grasp the details that make me who I am. And here I thought I was the cruel one, not giving you what you want to make you happy. But I now realize that I should stop punishing myself for what had happened. Why do I even try to be your friend? You say you care, but really you’re no better than an amnesic. Either that or you’re always drunk when you talk to me because you don’t seem to remember anything about me. So, seriously. Figure yourself out first before you try to figure me out. ‘Cuz whatever you’re doing now ain’t working, girl.
I write and then I write some more. Thinking goes on all day, and I only have a more or less 4-hour window to jot everything down. I wish the world is more innocent. What if things aren’t as complicated as they seem? Would I have a smaller brain? Or maybe it’d be all the same.
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