The Itch

I spent a lot of yesterday writing a new story. I stayed up about an hour later than I usual do on a Sunday night, but I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in a long time. I love being inspired. I love the sweet agony of being tortured by characters vying for my attention. I know it sounds crazy, but there’s a world in my head that most people probably couldn’t even imagine. I’m focused right now. I have a date set and a goal in mind. It’s frustrating to have this story trapped inside of me and not have the proper time to write it because I have to work.

I miss staying up all night working on a story. I miss writing until my eyelids start to close on their own. I miss having three hours of sleep and not caring, because all I can think about is getting back to the computer to write more of the story. I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling anxious, but I have this sinking thought that if I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it. I have to establish myself now. I have to work hard now. I have to find a way to stay focused this time. I can’t keep bouncing back and forth.

I have like this itch inside of me. I don’t know what it is, but now is the time. I’m certain of that.