I hadn’t written a single thing in about 4 months. The last thing I wrote was a story I started with Tricia, where I wrote a chapter and she wrote a chapter and it was going well. But the interest in that fizzled I guess. But Friday night, I felt inspired. I laid down on my futon, turned on Donnie Darko, and just stared at the blank paper in front of me. I stared at it for over an hour before writing a single friggin word. I just stared and stared, and then it just came to me. I wrote a poem, which the people who’ve read it, have classified as “sophisticated”, “deep”, and “way over their head”.
I really didn’t think it was that good. I apparently have a knack for writing, according to a certain fantastic AP Government teacher and contrary to a certain AP English 12 teacher and. Maybe I could actually write for a living. Much like a young Ernest Hemingway, except I won’t be a drunk, fight in a war, or commit suicide under the weight of my genius.
I don’t know where my new found inspiration has come from. Someone once said that “Inspiration comes in times of great darkness” and I’m assuming they were smart, because they were right.
