I give up. It's not that I can't write, it's that I can't write consistenly. I can't work up the motivation to do this on a day to day basis. I have so many outstanding projects that I don't know where to begin, and I don't know why I thought starting a new project would be worth it. And yeah, I can produce the occassional gem, but it's after suffering through months and months of the dry time, when every word seems forced and stilted and...well, you know. Cliche.
So yeah, chalk me up as a failure at this too. I can't write dammit, or at least I can't write consistently. And it doesn't matter what fucking kind of talent you've got if the guy upstairs thought it a cruel joke to give you no motivation to go along with it.
Failure. Again. Why do I dare to dream? Why do I dare? Why did I dare to create with these hands? Why did I ever think I had it in me to write?
The sound you hear is that of dreams crashing to the ground.
--kat, back in the dry land.