Just write something.
I looked at my hands begging for them to obey me. The thoughts were swirling in my head like enigmatic butterflies. Alas, I was without a net.
Just write something.
I beseeched the words to flow through fingertips that refused to move, digits unresponsive and time is running out.
The butterfly wings are flapping faster and there is a whirlwind tunnel.
Just.
I'm exhausted and weak.
Write.
I'm always so exhausted.
Something.
Fighting against the sea of fatigue, avoiding the stingrays of self-doubt, seeing Murphy's Law floating past, I am trying
to JustWriteSomething.
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