The girls went out and I enjoy the calm of being alone at home.
I thought I'd use my quiet evening to write, but I have been utterly unable to write a single line for days. Apart from a small recounting of a nightmare I had recently, nothing. Inspiration is gone, and except for a four hands project, I have no idea. My brain is dry. which is extremely frustrating.
My attention span, is at its lower, so is my ability to focus. It's nothing to be worried about really, but it is both painful for me and extremely frustrating.
I know I must not force myself, and that it will comeback by itself. But creating stories, living thousands of adventures in my head is my thing! It's how I define myself, how I protect myself, how I see myself. Without my imagination and the ability to make visible what is in my head by writing it, I feel crippled. I am missing something. I am not whole.
So I keep busy instead. I make pancakes. Tens of them.
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