The nights of nothing

“ I think I miss you more than the world of stories miss me.”

 

    My dearest readers,I have received many sentiments
on my writings , diary whatever
little presence I have made here
nor there.
I am simply doing nothing. 

For some reason it feels like
something.

But nothing. Absolute nothing. I have manuscripts stacked up and books making its way to the canals of Venice, yet I sit and wander millions of miles away, hopelessly thinking of heart feelings and wanting to not put it on papier.

Which is news to moi. 
    un silence.
I have always written when
visited by my greatest grief.Even if my bitter essence for tolerance or my need to live in a state of loathe for however long it last.
Yet i cannot write.
I cannot socialize with words.
Nor can I finick with my lady pretension to delve into Wall Street again or write upon sadness.
Think not of it as writers block- I’m just not in the mood to write stories lately.
I like being of the map and call it what you may-

 I think stories has had it with me. 

I hope you have stories to tell as I merely sit and wait et for nothing.

For my nothing seems like something.

Forever your writer,

  Rianna kate Shaikh  Kiss of life: sade