That frustrated feeling, fingers restless but oddly still, like the need to do it is brewing, dancing up the delicate bones and squeezing gently at the joints. Do it.
Thoughts aren’t clear and steady. That would be a relief. Instead they fog your head, swirling determinedly, just enough to make you acutely aware of their presence yet refusing to settle. Do it.
The overwhelming feeling that to start, to really start is a like a careless flick of a domino. Simple, but irreversible. Just do it.
Why do it? Because you don’t have a choice. You never did, not really.
Just write.
LilyPetal 