There is nothing that makes me want to write quite as much as not having the time or the energy to write. I’m really not sure how that works, and I know it makes no sense.
If this ever actually led to any word-generation, I’d be more okay with it. All it leads to in reality is frustration. And a lot of talking to myself in the car. I don’t even care when the people next to me at lights see me doing it. I don’t even hope they think I’m on a headset. I’m cool with my insanity.
Autistic Wordpainter 