After nine months, nine months of nothing, I'm back to writing. I feel sick. I've been throwing up a lot. Not vomit, but ideas. Ideas were the siren's call. They were never gone, and they were always there waiting and wailing.
Their songs had cause a headache of guilt. No amount of aspirin can alleviate this pain. Well, there's no pills or salve or potion to cure guilt. I may have to live with this. Hopefully it will go away, like every other headaches.
So I sit here drinking a glass of inspiration and chewing a slice of reality. Will I fall off again? I hope not. This hangover is killing me.
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