The CDE/Curious Subject haven't written anything here in quite some time.
Nothing has been written in.... It feels like decades, but maybe closer to a year in the real world. There just isn't.... *repeatedly gesturing upwards and outwards with open hands* Where did the...? How can we..?
.....?!
.....! huh?
There is nothing remarkable to find. Nothing is where a certain something used to live.
There was an energy associated with those something moments and sporadically there was this zesty rush!... There is an instant indifference towards anything and everything that was happening before something started to happen.
A rush. Jolting urgency.
Pen. PEN! Paper is where? Is that a..?! Fucking tire pressure gauge. Need pen need pen.
Like a rare natural occurrence has started...
Hurry! Paper at last! Oh calendar paper. FINE it is fine. Where is a fucking penNNNNCIL pencil would work!
A mad rush of sounds, cadence, rhythm, rhyme, words, consonants!....
Scribbling impatiently in one area and then darting to the paper edge to add unrelated clusters of words.
Moving at top speed is too slow and sentences start to leak away. Half of a brilliantly witty and smooth sounding limerick vanishes, taking with it the pride created as the limerick was. I have never NOT desired to write. Between the flashes of something and that wordsmith mania, was never actually a lull- writing what needs to be written has no pizazz; it is slow, clumsy and clunky like a futon.
This is the first... absence of that inner oddity and it feels... Silence in the place of something would have been a welcome trade at times in the past, a relief even. Frustrating times for all involved, including, for an hour every week, the unflinching psychiatrist. Ohh now I've got a stupid smile stuck in place- unexpectedly fond memories- Don't you wonder if the Doctor remembers...?
Many sessions had discussions regarding the negative aspects of an overactive something, and it was not an enjoyable thing at that time.
Oh goodness- there were those few pieces of writing that we discussed, those that did not fight back any of the weird they came with. Perhaps my lack of censor was foolhardy, but it was shocking, quite shocking indeed, to wonder if the Doctor was made slightly.. uncomfortable ... by something it had written.... But wait. (real world viewpoint: there is just an individual writing down what they have created already in thought. *process*process*process* Oh. Ah.) There is less sparkle about it from that moment on. It never occurred to me that the Doctor might peg the overall ME as the author. Suddenly I am responsible for making the Doctor (possibly) feel uncomfortable, and I am deeply ashamed.
I do apologize for that...
No need for you to try and recall the event, but apologies to you, all the same.
