I talk to God but the sky is empty.
I'm currently sitting on my bed with molly, attempting to write. it's not going very well.
When told to compare a piece of text to a drama, prose, and poetry piece all i can think to write is something completely off topic, still relating to whatever i'm supposed to be writing about... just in some obscure way that is in no relation to the title. I wish i was sitting next to Sylvia Plath rather than my chubby cat, oh what a great help !