I Am Not a Drunk

I am a drinker with a writing problem. I can quite drinking anytime; writing on the other hand...

So, having left my natural habitat on a two day excursion to a new city - surprisingly, it's the one that feels more like home than my 'home' - I have returned with a new lease of life. Please note that I said lease...

Synonyms: rent, let, let out, hire, hire out, sub let, sub lease...

... basically, it's a temporary contract with my fragile mental state where we've agreed to calm the fuck down for a few days. There was a tiny moment where I thought that I could possibly go un-medicated for those few days, but that was pretty laughable and hasn't happened. Take now for example: I'm taking Valerian extracts and drinking 6% cider - s'all good.

The upside however, is that I am a bag of creativity at the moment. Generally speaking, my creativity is squashed by frustration; as always I over think things everything. Today thought, today is a good day, because today I'm putting that creativity into prospective and I'm also being realistic.

I think that I've bored you enough for one evening, so here's a couple of questions:

[1] You meet death one day and he tells that your time is coming to a close; how do you react? Do you try to change the unknown? Run and hide? Or do you carry on and let things take their course?

[2] You own a castle and it's being attacked; your family has been captured and it's just you and your squire... what do you do?

[3] Are you writing anything at the moment? How is it going?

[4] Who are your OTP?