“I’m a writer” I whisper as I look up war statistics
“I’m a writer” I whisper as I look up when the blender was invented
“I’m a writer” I whisper as I figure out how many times you can get shot without dying
“I’M A WRITER” I shout when someone uses my laptop and I left the page open to stab-wound references.
“I’M A WRITER!” I yell as I stare at a wall for hours instead of actually writing.
"Why did I decide to be a writer?" I ask myself while failing to comprehend steam engines.
"You did noy choose writing," say the steam engines. "Writing chose you."
I put down my pen and close my laptop.
"Tomorrow I shall continue to be a writer. Tonight I get the my ass to sleep."