Friday morning and all is ... not exactly well, but at least OK. A little bit of chest pain this morning, but it eased on rest. Still, it's irritating and not a little scarey.
I've about decided to quit writing. I apparently have no new ideas that are worth the effort and when I do have an idea, it disappears before I can get to the computer to write.
I blew all my good ideas on non-publishable stuff. I've tried to make it publishable, but it loses something in translation. I guess I just suck.
The thing is, I've always wanted to be a writer. All my life, I've written stories. I loved making up tales about things I see, ideas I have, stuff I hear. I've been doing it as long as I can remember.
But now, I can't think of anything worth writing anymore. I'm apparently too stupid since my brain damage, to think clearly. I keep coming back to the same storylines. I've tried to submit them, but no one wants them.
So I suppose I should just give up. I'll never be a great writer. Heck, I'll never even be a mediocre writer. I'm just a sucky writer.