Gosh. A whole page of white. What do I write? There is so much, so very much. But much of it is nothing much. I don't know what to write. Should I write about my lack of an idea? Why don't I have something to write about? Dammit, this just plain sucks. Drugs or alcohol might help. I'll be right back. Nah, nothing. Now I'm having trouble even typing, or remaining upright. Now what? I could fall down and then write about zero gravity for that micro nanosecond. Ok, I'll try. BRB. Damn! It didn't work.
Actually, thinking about it, I should write about how I feel right now, but later. Oh yeah, that sounded dumb (SOUNDED DUMB, SOUNDED DUMB, SOUNDED DUMB, SOUNDED DUMB).
I'll have to leave this, my first and pitiful blog for later when I have more substance.
"Everything I Know About Me..."
- Persistent Writer
- Mystic, Connecticut, United States
- If nothing else, I'm persistent. Writing is therapy to me, as well as the chance to share things that will be lost when I'm just dust. Not that these things are that important, but I believe everyone wants to know they are as similar to others as they are unique. I believe that's what makes us human. To be interested in things, and to search them out, and to make connections and to look back and not regret, to look back and revel at all that is human, and all that is us.
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