Oh, the desire to crack my head open and paint with its contents. Oh, the desire to pour out my soul for your viewing pleasure. Oh, the maddening fear of imperfection and regret holding me back.
Recently, I've been quite stricken with the urge to write more than poetry. Regardless of my ailments, my mind has so cruelly decided that I'm not ready to write my internal stories.
('They're still cooking,' it tells me,
"They will be cooking on to eternity, until there's nothing left of them to serve," I reply,
"But so be it, if you say they must cook, then cook they shall. Cook them on to eternity.")
As a result, I've been reconsidering fanfiction for what is possibly the hundredth time.
I've tried and failed a few times to write and post my fanfiction head-canons, and thankfully, none of the ideas have actually left. Sure, some of them may have split or merged into something entirely new. And others may have temporarily left my main train of thought.
But they're all still there in some form or another, just waiting for me to do something with them.
I've even come up with a new idea recently that I have a really good feeling about, now if only I could get myself to catch up on JJK so that I can actually write it.
If I ever do get around to that JJK fanfiction, it would be called: "To live, we must leave." And that's all you're getting.
