I'm a writer, we're supposed to spend all our time alone, being creative and morose.

Also, drunk. Writers are supposed to be drunks and junkies. My mind is screaming at me to just forget my non-existent funds and send her a big bottle of the green fairy [absinth for those who don´t know that little nickname :p] with a note attached that reads 'Dear Laurell, if you drink this all at once the voices will speak louder and make more sense than now. An adoring fan'.
Gods, that woman makes me want to scream.