The Coming Doom
My Deadline is fast-approaching, and I've been doing jack and shit about it. I've been spending my free time thinking about the story, but my word count for the second Iteration is something around 7,900 words. Not good enough, especially due to the fact that my word count should be in the 16-17,000 range by today.
A Feast for Crows is already out, and I need to pick that up.
I've been spending my time wallowing about, building a World of Darkness character(white wolf) and thinking on his back story instead of putting my head down and trucking on with the story. If I want thsi done by the first of the year, then I need to be doing this hardcore, instead of, 'im tired of listening to Harry Potter, time to write, and getting 400 words read but not necesarily edited.
Golden Brown, texture like sun; lays me down with my mind she runs throughout the night; no need to fight, never a frown with Golden Brown.
I feel like my life is over, and someone is playing the end credits. Nobody told me I should be walking into the sunset, so I'm going about my life as usual, dead but not knowing it. It's just something about today... I feel like the other shoe is waiting to drop, the hammer is poised above the anvil, Waiting for the other handcuff to ratchet closed.
These feelings make me want to run home and throw my head under the pillows, dissapear, or arm myself with the kind of artillery reserved for Intergalactic War.
I guess I'm just tired of groping around in the dark, not knowing there's a knife on the table until my hand is gushing blood, not knowing that there is someone next to me until I stub my toe on their heel. If I could find a lightswitch to shed light on the situation for just one moment, give me my bearings back and a direction to walk towards.
The world is a maze, and I'm God's little blind mouse.
A Feast for Crows is already out, and I need to pick that up.
I've been spending my time wallowing about, building a World of Darkness character(white wolf) and thinking on his back story instead of putting my head down and trucking on with the story. If I want thsi done by the first of the year, then I need to be doing this hardcore, instead of, 'im tired of listening to Harry Potter, time to write, and getting 400 words read but not necesarily edited.
Golden Brown, texture like sun; lays me down with my mind she runs throughout the night; no need to fight, never a frown with Golden Brown.
I feel like my life is over, and someone is playing the end credits. Nobody told me I should be walking into the sunset, so I'm going about my life as usual, dead but not knowing it. It's just something about today... I feel like the other shoe is waiting to drop, the hammer is poised above the anvil, Waiting for the other handcuff to ratchet closed.
These feelings make me want to run home and throw my head under the pillows, dissapear, or arm myself with the kind of artillery reserved for Intergalactic War.
I guess I'm just tired of groping around in the dark, not knowing there's a knife on the table until my hand is gushing blood, not knowing that there is someone next to me until I stub my toe on their heel. If I could find a lightswitch to shed light on the situation for just one moment, give me my bearings back and a direction to walk towards.
The world is a maze, and I'm God's little blind mouse.
posted by Hadrian: Dark One at 11:28 AM
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