I'm trying to purge myself of the internet, of my cellphone, of any device that provides communication because I cannot fight the urge to try contact you and disregard the wishful thinking that you'll actually reply even though I know you won't. So I'm left browsing through photographs and artwork that never fail to remind me of you. Its like dynamite, the single spark of an idea ignites this long chain of memories that leads to the explosive concept of you. I've been taking deep breaths and sitting in secluded corners of the house, thinking of what I can do to distract myself. The neat and orderly lines in every book I open don't interest me right now, but at least I have my music. At least I have my writing. I'm proud to say that I scribbled down a page-worth of thoughts, which is the most I've done in a while.
Isn't there a saying that goes something like, the best inspiration for an artist is heartbreak?