I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to write. I just don’t wake up with the same excitement and I’m not accosted with random thoughts that blossomed into hilarity in my own mind during the day the way it used to. (That is probably the stupidest sentence I’ve ever written in my entire life that I didn’t immediately want to end myself over.)

I know, I’m meant to be Sarcasma‚Ķ.Queen of the verbose universe. (Again, Way over the top.)

I’d love to come back. Here are my demands.

I need a home. My own. Tired to death of living without my glass rooster full of candy corn and Cadbury eggs. Because that’s hilarious.

And my vintage cabbage bowl. Full of more just really dumb stuff.

And the most amazing record player which happens to double as furniture. Pretty much stole that.

Honestly afraid to say more.

I’m not unhappy.

I’m unsettled.