I can’t write. I have a lot to say but the words come out wooden and forced. They scratch my skin and make me feel uncomfortable. Nothing seems to flow or to fit together the right way. Forcing it doesn’t seem to be working in the least.

I am pouty and angry and a little bit sad. I’m trying to blame this current emotional state on everything — an e-mail from Vodo about my bad writing habits, loneliness, boredom, fear, writer’s block, rebellion — but what it is, a monthly-induced hormonal imbalance. It sucks, because unlike all the things I want to blame, I cannot do anything about this. It’s hard to rail against biology, which makes it all the more frustrating.