emo...

I wonder if writing about something sad is easier than writing about something happy. Maybe it's the way that I've grown up. A life that was filled with sadder stuff? Maybe.

Occasionally, I can hear a neighbour screaming at her child. I think I've actually seen this neighbour before. Once at the lift lobby. I think she was conscious that I was there. She tried to not scream. But still, it was too loud for me. Thinking about the child with a less than sensitive mother made me want to write. But then again, maybe I shouldn't.