Did aliens abduct me or am I crazy? Maybe I’m a Writer

Writers hear voices in our heads.  The only way to get them out is to put them down on paper.  We often find ourselves staring out into space; placing ourselves in another dimension.  A dimension where only our voices and private places live.  Sometimes when we finish writing, we’ve lost track of time.  It could be hours; Sometimes it’s days.  We forget appointments; we forget to eat.  We are obsessed.  Then our muse is quiet.  The voices are gone. Time and space return.  We are afraid that our private place won’t let us in again. We eat. We sleep. We desire.  Then the voices come back, and it’s ok again

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