Anyway, my counsellor pointed out that if not-writing makes me feel as if I don't exist, it might be a good idea to consider writing.
It's quite a bold assumption - do I want to acknowledge that I do indeed still exist? I suppose I can't float around in limbo forever, physically vital, heart beating, head aching whilst my mind is a dead, flat fog.
So here I am.
I'm trying. The rest of my life still ahead of me, dammit. There it is in the picture: a blank page.
I had better write myself better, write myself a better story. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
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