You need to write.
You need to find an inspiration.
You need to find it yesterday.
You will never finish this.
You never finish anything.
What a fucking waste.
I wish I was high on some kind of drugs.
Maybe I could write then.
Yet maybe there's just nothing in there.
Maybe you're actually pretty much useless.
Maybe you'll end up being the embarrassment of the family.
They'll say you wasted your life and avoid looking you in the eye.
You'll grow increasingly more lonely, even lonelier than you are now.
The only person, who will keep talking to you, will be yourself.
You'll look back at your life and think "how did I fuck up like this..?"

No, no.... There - you have it. The root of all of your problems. Negativity. You negative cow. Pull yourself together.

I'll be positive now.

I hope this winter is not as cold as the last one.
I wish hats could look as cool on me as they do on other people.
I wish my wishing wasn't wasted like a wolf's howl, sent to the Moon.