Ethan: When an inspiration strikes, you cannot deny it. That thing… that strange thing just glues itself to your head and refuses to leave until you write it out. And when you write that thing out, it is as if someone had forcefully pulled it out. An inspiration is like a tumour. Something like that but not exactly like that. A brain tumour is far worse. It makes your head itchy. You reach your hand to your head and you try to scratch it. But it just does not go away. This fucking itch just does not go away! Then what do you do? You cannot just write it out. This is not an inspiration! This is a fucking tumour! I know this language is bad for your health. But whenever I use this kind of fucking language, inspiration strikes. And when inspiration strikes, my mind shifts its concentration to that strange thing in your head which refuses to leave. The inspirational strange thing. Not the other growing lump of flesh. So, I just fucking write my inspiration out. Usually, it takes quite some time. And that some time is enough. Enough to make this fucking itch stay hidden under my bed. You know, that fucking monster that threatened to swallow you up if you dare land your feet on the floor when you were little? Yes, that fucking monster is now in my head and I have just discovered a new way to keep it under the bed. You either do not leave the bed or you threaten the monster back. I chose to threaten the monster back. I threaten him with this: YOU BETTER FUCKING STOP THIS OR I WILL NOT GIVE YOU ANY OF MY FUCKING ATTENTION. The monster did not buy my threat. He thought I was simply fucking joking. So I had to carry out the threat. That is why I am writing this.