knicnelson
i am a brilliant and prolific writer. i am a brilliant and prolific writer. i am a brilliant and prolific writer. i am a brilliant and prolific writer. i am a brilliant and prolific writer. i am a brilliant and prolific writer.
Wake. Write. Eat. Work. Eat. Read. Run. Write. Drink. Write. Sleep. Wake.
When I regained consciousness it felt as if my whole life had shattered into a million little pieces... The alarm clock insisted on bringing me back to reality, and diligently pulled at the thread of my dream until it was completely unravelled, and I woke up.
What a horrible awakening! When the wrinkly old therapist, Mrs. Morrison, pointed out that the dreams were merely a subconscious justification to his waking life, the young man's heart sunk even further into the dreary depths of self-pity.
D-I-S-C-O-V-E-R. He carved each letter slowly into the dirt path, using the found tree branch/walking stick as an oversized pencil. What a great message to convey to other hikers, she thought as she watched him draw. And with each new step she fell more and more in love.
The girl angrily grabbed a pair of scissors off of her bedroom desk and knifed right through her short's waistband. Tomorrow, she thought to herself, throwing a sidelong glance at the standing mirror. Tomorrow I will start my diet.