I swear, right now I'm in no mood to write (and I've not for quite a while). I don't know what's happened to me - the break up perhaps - but my mind's fragmented slighly of late and I find it impossible in the current climate to sit down and write. Perhaps, also, it's a combination of work hours and then just wanting to get home and sleep. I don't know.
At the same time I'm still getting plently of ideas for new scripts and such, but I just don't know what to do with them. I doubt it's laziness, 'cos otherwise I wouldn't be writing this. You see, I want to write - byt right now that's the last thing my brain wants to do. Take this whole "Hey Jude" idea of mine; I've not even touched it for nigh on two months.
I'm hoping that the start of uni, and meeting all those new faces will encourage me a little more. What I think it boils down to is a lack of passion - not for writing, but life in general. It's no big secret that I've been depressed since May, since... that happened to me. And now the excitement of waking up every day and smiling for the sake of it is gone. I'm unhappy with life and it prevents me from commenting upon the world in my writing.
Anybody reading this won't quite understand the frustration I'm going through; because to a writer not being able to write is the worst feeling in the world. It's comparable only to having one's arms chopped off and eyes gouged out. I need to write, in order to feel like my old self again - but the paradox is this; I can't write because I don't feel like my old self.
Not that I blame Katie at all, but there's a feeling on my behalf that my whole life was leading somewhere wonderful when I was with her. Around that girl I actually felt like I had a future, and now... well, there's this unpredictabilty. An emptiness. I'm just this guy who wakes up and goes to sleep again 12 hours later. Nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I want my old life back. I want Katie back. I want to be able to pick up a pen and write again. Without all those things I just feel like an empty shell of a person. I can still enjoy life, and laugh here and there, but I've no purpose anymore - and that's the most depressing thing of all.