heavy eye strain, sleepful

i don't know if i am allowed to call this writer's block anymore, it is writer's self-awareness, the result of living in a post-postmodern world. i am too conscious of structure, of the act of writing, that i always write about writers. and, these writers are always myself packaged with another face and another backstory. it's too hard to write about yourself and not know more about your own character than she does. but i need to write this, i need to write homes!ck. maybe i'm being over-ambitious and i'm writing for film what should be a novel: overusing voiceover and showing moments of nothingness during which virginia would've presented kilometre-long thoughts spanning mere seconds. but film is show, show, show. and i know what i want to show, but i do not know how to show it. and i need to stop over-thinking it but i also need to stop under-thinking it.

i hate myself when i write.

my mood fluctuates from day to day and i am at that point again when i am like an almost-full bucket and any small kick sends water flying over the edge.