This is me

Today I was listening to Pink Martini (it's my current trend) and the song began:

I wish a falling star could fall forever

And that's how it is for me. Especially with written. I've been writing like a lunatic this week. A real lunatic because it was as if my imagination had gained a life independent of my own. It started with an innocuous sentence in a book and then I gathered a bit from here, a bit from there and it magically exploded like a cake in the oven (when you don't forget a certain special ingredient). It lead to me being in bed and not being able to sleep because there were sentences being formed in my head without any sort of effort. I had to get up and write them down. And for the first time in my life I actually thought this story was good enough to go places because it has many different ingredients (I seem to be really hungry these days) and it's not completely pathetic and self-indulgent (yet).

But back to the star: what I meant is that I wish these inspiring and thrilling moments lasted longer because I never know when I'm going to be bored again and leave the story in a dark corner. Today, for instance, I feel less inspired than before, I seem to have reached one of those points when you don't know how to make a bridge to something else. I don't want this to die. I need this story to breathe and evolve and become enriched.

Then I also thought that it could never last forever; if it did, it would stop meaning anything, it would be normal, not a falling star. And the song came back to me with this:

I know a falling star can't fall forever

But let's never stop falling in love.

Oh, that sounds fair.