There is this feeling when you write that the real world isn’t there, that you are totally submerged in your make belief.

You immerse yourself in it, you find that the words flow and flow and you don’t even thing about them.
Is this the right one?
You don’t care because you’re not there. You’re in the movie you just created and you may shed tears or feel your inside hurt, your breath may shorten. You fear, you love, you tense your jaw.

Whatever is around you is gone, the coffeeshop, the drab little room. You are feeling deeply, intensely, while the pen is running fast on paper.

So much, that you’re drunk.

“You must stay drunk of writing so that reality can’t destroy you” ~ Ray Bradbury