I guess that's the beauty of writing.
You get to choose the topic.
You.
Sometimes you can't.
Sometimes you find those times, your pen skidding across the paper, ink falling out.
And you just write.
You don't know what your writing about, you just write.
Sometimes you have those sleepless nights from the banging words and ideas flowing through your head.
Making you get up and write until you're wrist hurts.
Looking at the clock, your shocked expression as you realize it's been hours since you got out of your bed.
Maybe that's what it's like to be a true artist.
