Pete,
I still have writer’s block. The words don’t come like they used to, nothing sounds right, and I can never seem to finish what I start.
Mostly I just don’t know what to write. Or maybe I don’t know why, or what for.
Why do we write, Pete? Do we want to fool ourselves into thinking that anyone cares? Nobody cares, because we all care for ourselves first and others second. And rightly so, because in a world like this, putting yourself second means that nobody will ever put you first.
Does that make sense to you?
Yours sincerely,
Jan
(I bought a plane ticket.)
YOU ARE READING
Re: Pete
Short Story❝Roses have thorns, my dear, but so do you. ❞ In which Jan falls into an existential crisis, and Pete is there for her, if only in the form of words on her screen.
