i am sour.
while my surroundings are deeply submerged in love and the chemicals that oozes from so.
i am soaked in scripts that i might not want to read and movies that i might not know how to enjoy.
mind my words used. classics are classics, i dare not challenge their awards won.
also, “might” is specifically used for tens of scripts and movies queuing up for my scrutiny and reference, titles that i haven’t seen, plots that i not know, it’s all there, not in a straight row but clustered and almost rowdy.
not because time forces them to be rowdy, but because i do.
sometimes i wonder if my passion and drive for scriptwriting is authentic.
“it is!” the right hemisphere of my brain tells me, while the other argues it’s only a medium of distraction.
both are right, no questions to that.
but to weigh the dominance of both proposal, the latter is painfully convincing.
i wonder how long will this rehabilation period stretch, it sucks.