I am left distracted, annoyed, perplexed. A maelstrom of internal affairs occurred within me that I believe that it would be a hassle to explain.
Right now, I am full of creative energy. I either want to compose, or continue my novel. How many times have I scrapped my novel, and how many times must I learn that my English is not proficient enough to maintain a novel without boring readers with the one word-use-many-times phenomenon. (which is pretty evident).
I am composing now. And my piece will start with a 4,5 thrill. How amusing.
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