One for whom a pebble has value must be surrounded by treasures wherever he goes

Vacancy. There are no fewer than three available slots in my brain. Immediate openings; reasonable personalities need not apply.

To be perfectly honest, it's not my creativity that's left me, it's my inspiration- my motivation. What point is there now? What content exists that merits eloquent prose? Seemingly, no such luxuries exist for me anymore. It's that apathy of mine. A curse put upon me by my evil step-mother. I keep meaning to call her and complain, but I just can't seem to find the motivation. That clever bitch.