I’ve been trying to write, and I’ve been getting frustrated. I’m happy, I have nothing to write about. I need to write lyrics for a song, I hate everything that comes out of my head, I never realised how proud I am of my misery. I re-read every sad thing from every horrendous and painful moment I have documented, nothing. Everything I put on paper sounds generic and dull, who knew being blissfully content was so unproductive.