Stuck

Sink your feet into mud, walk through a bog and let it suck you down to your thighs. Try to move, try to think over the panic, the mire has you in its clutches. Tragedy does that to you, and you try to rise above it, try to see past the black tar steadily pulling at your clothes and look at the sunrise over the swamp. Its hot out, and buzzard sits perched on a mangrove.

I'm sure this is just a little pocket of turbulence, my writing has been stuck for a bit, but Doster (my mentor/tv teacher) wants a project to be done. What do I do? WHAT OH WHAT? My back is in a perpetual state of uncomfortableness and there is tragedy all around. What can I make, when all my writing is dark and disturbed? I try to keep things lighthearted, make it seem as if I haven't been turned into a faithless cynic. Maybe I can use film as a sort of release, make something dark, but add hope, fool myself into making a happy ending when I know happy endings are far and few.