Truth Of My Youth

I've just realized that I will never be able to write a book. It's a little bit of a depressing thought, but I've gone through worse. I think I'll get over it. I hate being so uninspired. I can't think of anything even remotely interesting to write about. Of course, I'll always have thoughts, but I just can't work them into beautiful sentences like I used to. I either try to hard and it ends up sounding too mature, or I don't try hard enough and it sounds like a sixth grader writing. I guess we know now how I came up the title for this thing.

Well the shower calls my name and so does this disgusting house. Does anyone have a biohazard suit? No, well I guess I'll just have to brave it.