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Sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself
My blogging habits has been a bit dull for my liking lately. I attempt to write every time I have something to write about. I just end up deleting it all and I proceed to run around in my dreams instead.
Blogging is therapeutic. I just don’t know what to do to make it seem normal (like everything else I do). When I put all my thoughts down in writing I end up shelving it for a day and then when I proof-read it the next day, I scrap it. Mostly because I sound like a lunatic. Sometimes just neurotic. Other times I plainly make no sense. Now they’re all lost in Word files somewhere in my hard drive. Only I can know how loud my mind creaks.
Maybe someday I will put up an anonymous blog somewhere where I will put them all up. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I already have one. Maybe I don’t. Life is full of maybes.
I’m all over the place. Good night. Eat your vegetables. Drink your milk. While it’s still free.
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paradaw said:
I can relate to this, surprisingly. You can do it, no matter how this adage gets thrown around every single time, insincerely most of the time. And on anonymous blogs, it definitely, definitely is a must-have. That’s the reason for internet existence
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fifigabrielle posted this
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