I really do want to write. But am unable to for the moment.
You know how sometimes, you're trying really hard to do this thing, and you know inside your mind and heart that you really want to be another place, doing something else? I have that feeling now.
It happens when I read these days. I used to have this voracious appetite for reading once upon a time, and now when I sit with a book, I'm haunted by this feeling that I'm not really doing anything useful, and so I shift to painting, talking on the phone, or cooking something.
Writing is kinda becoming like that.
Or is it just that my offline conversations are letting me say it all, which is why my thoughts online are devoid of content?
Did I come off sounding sad right there? I feel quite the opposite, really :-)