rut my word

I have you in a rut…

And you have me coursing through literary articles…

The greatest of tidings should be remembered in the golden pages of history books as they should be in a commoner’s blog…
When I am happy, I often have none of the creativity in me to write…
Depression is my fuel…
Calm surrender is my literary poison…
How odd that these times of breathing in the morning air are left to the Earth’s memory alone…
For no journals have been kept…
No memoirs published…
You are at the point when there is actually none to complain about…
None to open the floodgates that keep you up nights orchestrating words into coherent sentences…
Come to think of it…
That’s actually a good thing…