9/3/2016: The Joy of Writing
· 3 min read
I have forgotten the reason, or reasons, to write. I have forgotten them, or they have been displaced.
I now seek to win the tournament. Snap kick him in the neck. Go for the cut eyelid. Drive yourself until you bleed sweat.
The scoreboard drives you: How are you doing now? What about now? Not good enough… Still not good enough… What about now? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with this game?