it's one of those colds that sneaks up on you like a rival gang leader in the prison showers, and you don't realize how screwed you are until it's actually happening. and all you're left with when it's over is maybe a brand on your ass assuring you that it's coming back. that it's going to happen again.
this is my favorite place right now [as i've expressed before], being stuck in a story. 35,000 words in, right in the middle, right in the meat of the plot. and as i sit here, forced to watch the last 6 minutes of ghost rider as i wait for sons of anarchy to begin, i remind myself that i will be here again. that this curse of storytelling will never leave me. much like the curse of ghost rider, which i wish he would use to kill himself so this terrible 6 minutes could just be over already.