it’s funny how inspiration works sometimes. You get inspired, start writing or working on something; you get in the zone. Everything is flowing and just works. Your confidence skyrockets, and you feel great.
And then – nothing. full fucking stop. You finish that sentence or whatever, and the whispers of the muse in your head go silent. The next idea or paragraph crawls back into hiding and you only catch glimpses of it as it scurries around.
it’s kinda beautiful if you think about it. The thought isn’t complete enough and it goes into self-inflicted solitary until it is ready to take its place in the piece.
it’s also the cosmic equivalent of your mom turning off the lights when you’re reading in bed, saying, “put the damn book away and go to sleep!”.
A Peculiar Cerebral Tangle 