Why is writing so hard and why can't I stop doing it?

The losses and triumphs of the narrative compulsion. A fragmented exploration.

It’s 5:33 am. DO SOMETHING, YOU MEDIOCRE FUCK! An internal detonator wakes me up. My husband sleeps next to me, our legs are intertwined. How many hours have I slept? I do the math and it gives me 5. Not enough but not that bad. I close my eyes and try to empty the mind. A sentence starts forming, There are really chill people out there, you know, the k…