but it’s always easier to say then to do, easier to talk in third person then to be the one choking on the flaws. similar to writing a 101 things i shouldn’t have done, lesson #43:  never drink whiskey on a first date. lesson #17: don’t feel obligated to have sex with someone just because you didn’t like them and you really want to end all communication.  lesson #5:  break hearts to save yourself.

and work makes you die a little more inside each day. and your room.. is just a fucking mess. and it’s everything you hate and you love and you don’t want to move or do anything because then you’re making a Commitment.

at night when you’re sweating out the shit from the day, you pray for redemption in all your wrongdoings. all the nights you drank to avoid the capital “P” problem. all the times you fucked someone because you were just going through the motions.  all the times you passionately breathed lies into the ear of another not because you meant them but because you wanted someone to whisper them to you.  remembering your life under creamsicle lights, cigarette in hand, suffering the heat of LA.

so that’s where you’re at. sitting long nights in front of your computer wanting needing desiring inspiration. the first line of the story. the first thought to propel you into a writing whirlwind. the trite yet so not trite adjectives that would crudely describe your desperation and the need to expunge yourself of your sins.

but until then you wait.