I’m knee-deep in it.
I have these ideas.
I explained it to someone as being the point in time when I work on scraps of paper.
It’s hard to describe.
Difficult to define.
I want to draw a picture. It looks like soup. Thhhhhhat’s not right.
So I’m stuck trying to make others see my dream through written words.
Which are limited to one hand.
The wrong one.
And my spoken words.
From a voice that doesn’t always sound right.
Well, never RIGHT.
But, not even decent.
So, this is frustration.
When my brain works, but nothing else will meet it the rest of the way.
I feel like my words are betraying me.
Written and spoken.