The Alternatives

It's been a long ass time. Hello, there, we meet again. I've been in my head for the longest of times, I felt I was losing it. As some of you may have noticed, or at least those who read, I posted what was supposed to be the beginning of this awesome story called Stockholm Syndrome . The plan was to make it up as I go, as a challenge to myself as to whether or not I could finish something on time. Giving myself a deadline. As it turns out, I suck at that shit. Big fucking time. I've only written about eight pages of that story. And I got another one in the works, but that one seems to be going a heck of a lot more smoother than Stockholm. Which raised the question, how bad do I want it? How much of a writer do I really want to be? My actions aren't justifying. Or satisfactory. Am I just here? It really sucks. But Rome wasn't built in a day. So, there's still hope, I think. And then I asked myself, is writing what I really see myself doin