This is, in fact, a slump.
A reading slump. A writing slump. A motivation slump.
The warm weather has hit and I find myself less and less inclined to be in the house. Which is understandable. But it also means I spend far less time at my computer, or with my nose stuck in a book. And that kind of sucks when you actually want to blog. Or actually want to read. But the warm weather, it calls.
I have a feeling, that in about two months or so, I’ll have plenty of time to write. And plenty of time to read. So, you can probably expect the posts to pick up after that. Hopefully. We’ll see. I stopped making promises long ago.
But for now, enjoy this tiny poem.
In the end,
There is me
And only me.
The rest
You can not prove
Is real.
The others
You can not prove
Exist.
How can I believe you
When not even you are real.
When not even I exist.
-M
