What happened? I used to sit down and let it flow. Thoughts and ideas and passions and energies that flowed forth. Dreams that spewed out of me without my control. Is it just because of the time, or is it something else. Is it bad tempers and foul timing? Is it the coming bills and all the obligations and the strained relationships and that particular time and it all just crashes together and makes you wonder why? Or is it the fact that I think to myself all sorts of things and wonder too much about what you’re doing and what you’re not doing. Is that distracting me from chasing a dream towards the rising sun? Or is it all just pondering before bed time and isn’t worth much anyway? And I can’t help but wonder what everyone thinks as they read these words and what effect each word will have on each person and isn’t that just a sick thing for a writer to have to think about? You should just write, and what comes will come. If I speak the truth then the truth is doing the damage, not me. Am I to blame for the failings of my audience? Questions that come and questions that go and I just wish there was some more time to myself, time to think, time to write, time to live. But instead there’s bills, there’s work, there’s obligations, there’s distractions. Welcome to life, kid. Aren’t you glad you’ve entered the real world?