So, I’m getting a little twitchy. I feel oddly jittery and my concentration is shot — I can’t focus long enough to immerse myself into the books I want to read, and I constantly feel as if I want something, but I can’t quite figure out what.

For the last couple of weeks, my creative energies haven’t been dedicated to writing, but to another project — hence why my corner of the internets has been so quiet until recently. But the urge to write is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, making me itchy under the skin.

I can hear you lot now: “So just write, K, instead of bitching and moaning about it, jeez.” *insert eyeroll*

Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple. The impulse needs time to build before it can gather. And it needs a little longer to condense and launch in a particular direction. It builds the same way a storm does, and I can feel it coming the same way; the clouds change, first, stacking up and growing dark. Then the pressure changes as the wind picks up — soon you can smell the rain. And when the clouds open up and the storm hits, you’re not surprised. In a way, there’s a strange sort of relief in it.

It hasn’t finished gathering and condensing yet, but I can still feel it. It’s close. I’m waiting for the clouds to burst, to let the rain pour down and the lightening crack and thunder roll. Until then, all I can do is wait.

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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