well its been a while. not since i've written, my draft box is cluttered with the most trivial of complaints, observations and what not. i look back on them with a tragic sigh, as i hit the wall of shame when i realise how wrapped up in my own life i get. its enough to make you sick.
its like when you're in a exam, the time starts 'right gentlemen, and ladies, you may begin', your head goes down and the world becomes irrelevant, and your mind hones in on all the things you laughed at in class, words like 'flagellum' suddenly become crucial for the next hour and fifteen minutes.
and then you're asked to put the pencil down, and you return to the world you left behind, almost dazed as if you were expecting a welcome back.
in the time im writing, my head goes down and it might not resurface to reality for another half hour. suddenly all that really matters is what im writing, who's reading it and how to get rid of the bloody dusk underneath my keyboard.