The long and nasty week is over. I have had the most ungrateful time at work and everywhere I could turn. I am exhausted and need rest. I have so much to do and so little will power to force myself to do anything. I had a nap and that is where my rest and looking after myself ended, though I must admit I have consumed rather a lot of green tea in the past five days.
My body and mind are tired, but my wanting to write is more alive than ever, unfortunately I have no energy to scramble my grasshopper mind together to turn it into something good.
Maybe a good nights sleep will help, but deep inside I know that in the morning all the inspiration will be gone and replaced by devastation of doing nothing while it was there. I don't know why I chose the path of a writer when I know that I will never be satisfied enough with anything I do. In fact I can not allow myself to focus on writing, because I'm so self conscious.