…and this is a pointless post… because… see title of post.
Posting is a huge struggle. I hate this empty feeling… like I have nothing to talk about… nothing to write about.
Except writing about not being able to write.
I know, huge contradiction.
Sometimes I can crank out some terrible poetry but that’s it. I understand that I’m having a fiction slump. But I feel like I’m having an everything slump.
Slump. What a weird word. I don’t think I like it.
Is my blog dying? Is my mind going? (The answers? I don’t know and probably.)
I don’t think this is all about writing. I mean, of course it’s not. It’s me. It’s something in my head eating away at my inspiration… my creativity. And whatever that something is, I can’t seem to kick it.
Maybe I shouldn’t have opened this can of worms because now I’ve lost the lid and everything is a slimy mess.
Yeah, I know… I can post whatever I want. And sure, I always intended to use this blog (in part) as a place to vent… to unload. That people read and give me a shoulder to cry on is a huge bonus. (I said huge bonus not huge bon… never mind.) I have a place to turn when I need to say things I can’t say to people I’m going to see sitting across from me at Thanksgiving dinner.
But I think it’s gotten out of control. (See above… worms.) I’m going in circles here just as I do in my head. I hate to use the word ‘do’ it because it doesn’t feel like I’m actively ‘doing’ it. It feels like it just is.
What I’m trying to say is… um… fuck if I can figure it out! I think… something’s not right. Okay, yeah… No shit. I think my life is boring and lonely.
And yeah, I know… I keep saying the same things in different ways. Queen Paraphrase.
I’m going to try to collect the slimy worms now and get them back into the can. And try not to open it again. No one wants to see that…
©2017 what sandra thinks