this is getting obsurd now, another sleepless morning and i'm once again typing to take away the boredom. i sat this morning pen in hand, ready to fill the page with the fantastic fiction i do so well. yet this time my mind was filled with a blank, no thoughts came, none whatsoever. never in my life has such a mental block occurred. it came straight after watching a film about the end of the world. the film left me feeling like i should really go out and achieve what i always wanted to achieve. right from when i was a little girl i had 2 passions; writing and the stars. some days i'd lose myself in my writing, i'd create such an amazing world in which i could drift away and escape. if i wasnt writing i was sitting in my garden gazing at the stars, i became so obsessed that i could name each constellation i saw in the sky. in the last few years though i've lost my drive for it all. i've even lost my talent for writing. i can recall a time i used to write stories and present them to friends and family expecting the worst, only to be recieved with praise and amazement. so i thought i'd try and see if it wasnt lost forever, but picking up that pen i was filled with despair and failure. i realised i'd given up. but then i realised my problem, and perhaps its not a problem at all. i dont want to write horror anymore, i dont want to continue writing stories about crazed stalkers and gruesome murders. im more inclined to write a love story, maybe in first person from the womans point of view. about a guy she loves more than anything in this world, a guy she would give up her life for in a heartbeat. a guy that is soo incredible that she loses herself in him. i guess i should start writing non-fiction lol well once again im rambling on, so i think i should end this. i just needed to express my feelings knowing that most likely noones going to read this, so noone can judge my crazy thoughts.