Writing

I had it last night, but I went to bed. I am talking about that it that makes me want to write. That it that makes me want to pound away at my keyboard. I went to bed because of the way the rest of the world pulls on me. I wish I could stay up all night and write. I wish I had no need to pay bills. It would be nice if writing whatever I wanted was my fulltime job. That is not going to happen anytime soon.

Today I feel bad about going to bed. I should have found out what was in my head. I should have found out what was diving me to write. I feel bad that I did not take advange of that drive. I have no idea what I might have written yesterday. I know that I am not going to get that back.