Things are better. The power of communion really is amazing. The generator has whirred back to life. The lights are back on. The clocks have started moving forward again. They stutter slightly, sure, but pothing's nerfect right?
Things haven't been resolved, but then what ever is? Do I know more about writing? No. Do I know more about myself? No. Am I a writer? I'm still not sure, but I am still writing. Also I'm thinking about future projects, feeling that excitement again. Next stop: getting cracking (hopefully).
This has been a response to Not Sure Anymore. Things have changed. As it often does, the Morecambe winds have cleansed the bad thoughts away. The only problem now is that the sea's anger seems somehow related to those lads messing around with the vending machine at Preston train station.
I'm not normal...