Holy Hell I’m Tired… …But I Want To Write.

The Days Continue To Seem Longer And Longer.

I Can’t Sleep.

I Can’t Properly Express Myself.

In Day To Day Life, My People Skills Are Failing…

…Though I Never Really Had Any To Begin With.

I Can Talk Myself A Blue Streak, But I Just Don’t Seem To Make Sense.

Nor Do I Honestly Ever, The Bulk Of The Time.

I Continue To Flounder In An Endless Circle.

I Simply Don’t Understand Myself A Lot Of The Time.

Why Must I Just Tinker And Putter With Things I Find Important?

I Want To Write.

Write Like I Used To.

Like I Liked To.

Reckless-Abandoned In Full-Force-Mode.

The Rest Be Damned, Ya Know?!

I’m Just Thinking Toooo Much.

Therefore, I Feel Like I Accomplish Very Little.

It Just Doesn’t Look Right.

It Just Doesn’t Feel Right.

When I Read Things Aloud, They Just Don’t Say What I’m Wanting It To Really Say.

Like Really REALLY Say.

SO…

…I’m Going To Re-Start Something That I Used To Do Constantly.

I’m Going To Start Keeping A Journal Again.

I Feel I Must.

When You Can’t Stop Thinking, You Eventually Realize That’s No Way To Think At All, Fo SHO.

Everything Gets Muddled.

You Have To Just Put It ALL Down.

Pen To Paper.

If I Don’t…

…Well…

…Hmm…

…I Don’t Know.

So, What Do I Know?

I Do Know I’ll Never Say Everything Exactly Right.

I Do Know Most Things Lose Something With Repeats.

I Do Know “STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE“ Is Honestly The Superior “TREK“ Series, Though “STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION“ Will Always Be My Favorite.

I Do Know At One Point I Wanted To Have BURT REYNOLDS‘ Baby.

I Do Know I’m A Total Hack At Most Things In Life.

What Else Do I Know?!

In The Words Of Mr. GROUCHO MARX…

“…And East Is East, And West Is West, And If You Take Cranberries And Stew Them Like Applesauce It Tastes Much More Like Prunes Than Rhubarb Does…”

Everybody Got That?!?

GOOD!!!

‘Cause I Sure As Shit Don’t!!!

I Just Want To Write.

And Now…

…As I Sit Here, Writing In The Dark…

…I’ve Just Written Myself Into Another Circle.

DAMMIT.

😐

I Want To Write… …I Need To Write.

I Feel Most Comfortable With My Pen In My Hand…

…And Plenty Of Paper To Write Upon.

I Like To Type-Up My Work, Sure, But I Sincerely Prefer Putting Pen To Paper.

I’m More Comfortable That Way.

My Handwriting Is Unique Enough That Only I Totally Understand It All.

So It Feels So Much More Personal To Me.

Are You Like That?

Is Anyone Like That?

Anyone?

How Many Of You Are Far More Comfortable That Way?

I Think Better That Way.

I Can More Completely Construct My Thoughts.

I Think I’ve Just Lost My Focus.

I’ve Lost My Drive.

My Determination.

My Personal Purpose.

I Write Sometimes Just For The Sake Of Writing.

I Write Sometimes Because I Sincerely Have Something To Say.

Sometimes, It’s Meaningless.

Sometimes, It Means Everything.

Sometimes, I Pray That Someone Will Read What I Write.

Sometimes, I Don’t Give A Shit If Anyone Reads Any Of It.

Sometimes, It’s All For You.

Sometimes, It’s All For Me.

Sometimes, It’s All For Us.

And Sometimes, I Just Don’t Know Who/What I’m Writing For At All.

Do You?

No, Of Course Not.

You’re Not Me.

How Could You Know Why I Do As I Do?

Exactly.

Everyone’s Different.

Everyone Does Everything For A Different Reason.

Well…

…Okay…

…Sometimes We All Do As We Do For The Exact Same Reason.

I Acknowledge That.

But For The Most Part…

…We’re All Doing What We’re Doing For Our Own Reasons.

I Just Wish I Could Get My Thoughts Straight.

I Wish I Could Stop Thinking In Seemingly Endless Circles.

It’s Maddening, Honestly.

But, When It’s All Said And Done, I Come Back To My Writing.

It’s The One Thing I Have That I Can Truly Call My Own.

Well…

…Okay…

…My Writing AND My Mistakes.

Both Are My Own.

Perhaps That’s Why I Combine Them So Often.

Nothing Feels More Mine Than Writing About My Mistakes.

I’ve Made Some Whoppers, That’s Fo SHO.

But Everyone Has.

Whoppers Abound, I Know.

When I Make One, I Almost Immediately Break Out The Pen And Paper.

I Try To Put My Thoughts Together.

I Try To Make Sense Of What Happened…

…Of What I Did Wrong THIS TIME.

Sometimes, It Helps Like Nothing Else.

Sometimes, It Only Makes It Worse Once I Realize Exactly Where I Went Wrong.

I’m A Mental And Emotional Dweller.

And Today, I’m Dwelling.

I’m Dwelling HARD.

So…

…I’m Writing.

Trying To Make Sense Of Things.

Thus Far…

…It’s Not Helping.

Not YET, At Least.

Give Me Time.

I’ll Get It All Worked Out.

With Pen In Hand…

…I’ll Get It All Worked Out.

I Hope.

I Hope.