mid-afternoon insanity

This afternoon (at 2:49 pm, if you want to be precise), I had this to say in my offline journal:

I just cannot finish today. I will be here for the rest of my life. I will never leave this desk. There has always been this manuscript hungry for words I cannot produce, there will always be this manuscript hungry for words I cannot produce. There was never anything else, there never will be anything else. A hungry manuscript is the totality of my existence.

I dream, sometimes, that I've left this desk, that I've walked away from the manuscript. I dream sometimes that I'm talking to people, ones with a pulse and thoughts of their own, people I have not written. Sometimes, I dream that I sleep. But I know it's not true. I know I have never left this desk, never left this manuscript.

Ah, the warped and twisted interior monologue of the writer. I did finish, though. For today at least. It starts all over again tomorrow.

4 thoughts on “mid-afternoon insanity

  1. It's brilliant.

    Although it made me want to give up writing and take up mountain climbing instead, just to escape the desk.

  2. What I can't believe? Is that I'm so cheerful about it now. I'm sure I wasn't at the time I wrote it. But here I am, sitting down to do it all over again today. I really am warped in the head.

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