A chill in August

I'm surrounded by books, yet I'm not particularly excited to read them. I'm surrounded by photographs, but they often represent little more than ink on nice paper. I'm surrounded by friends, but I take them for granted. I'm surrounded by tools of the trade: ink, paper, computer, printer, pens... I could write anything, but I have no thoughts to push my hand.

I am slipping, and I need to grip a little harder and make sure it doesn't all slip away entirely.