I can’t write stories like I used to… My characters have became stuck, turned lifeless inside the world that I have created, but no longer wants to revive. I remember the times when words used to be my solace and my escapism, but everything has been feather-light for me that I can’t pull the same amount of feelings towards my stories. Stories which are made out of angst towards the world, and created a pseudo-utopic world where I can visit (idioms dictionary) when I’m struggling. Life’s still...