You know the kind. The kind of month when you hate everything you do and everything you are and you look at the words you've written and think "this is shit. This is all shit, which is why you're not breaking through because if it weren't shit then people would notice but it is." And then you stare at the words some more, stare at them until you hate them, hate every word you've ever written, hate every word anyone has ever written, hate all languages, hate the inborn desire to communicate so you play a video game and it makes you feel better for a while until you realize that you're enjoying a story that someone else is telling, as opposed to your story, which is shit, and now you hate games too.
Yeah, one of those months. I'll need a few more cups of coffee then I'll soldier on. Until then I'm wallowing in it.