Been in a funny mood for the past month.

I’ve tried to brush it off and pretend I was ok, but whenever I’m around anyone, I just don’t feel right. I’ve been extremely anti-social, but forced myself to socialise. After the event, I just feel as if I had wasted my time. But I had nothing better to do with my time in the first place and I did enjoy myself by going out, so why is it that when I get back home, everything feels wrong?

I hope it passes. People are starting to mistake it for laziness.

I have stories to write and one to finish as well as a book to make. I should get started, but I’m off to work now, late and on a Sunday.

Some post art, I will post extracts from hidden scripts:

It’s all about that moment, when the decision is made. Those precious seconds. I was going back to help the bastard. Really.

When my legs gave way and I saw the keyring? That’s when I had the power again. I had final judgement.

The fucker had to die.