Nada

I dislike how my days have dragged on lately without inspiration. I know I was quite a burnout for the past weeks, but at least I was still able to write. Now, nothing comes out.

I stare at my old journal entries in Picket Drive and some of the earliest posts of this blog, feeling so jealous of that old me. I wonder where that kid is.

My days seem so boneless now. No framework. Nothing to write about.