I procrastinate. Ironic, really, considering the dozen dreams I have.
Maybe it’s why nothing happens with the story drafts I have kept in my laptop, or why this blog remained un-updated for months. It’s a sickness, to which I haven’t found a cure to yet. I try, though. But there’s a pulling force from just sitting down and staring into space that seems so ideal to me.
I hope something changes soon. I hope I start moving. My dreams are running from me, and I haven’t even put my shoes on yet.
Or maybe I don’t need shoes.