So I’m having doubts. There comes a time when you question what you’re doing.
First, for several days the few ideas that’ve come have not materialized, have not hit the page. I couldn’t write. Then I tried to write a comment on Free Speech, and that became a piece—so long… and then it just sat. I get the point of what I’m doing, but I don’t what I’m doing.
So much is corrected so often in the process that my views are altered. That’s a part of writing, right? Discovery? Self-discovery?
Later, I was able to obtain an old game I had completed long, long ago. Playing it again today brought back memories of the life I had way back. The game was cruder than I remember, but at least it wasn’t the irreparable mess that’s here. This blog just doesn’t make sense to me.
It’s been two years of basically trying to fill gaps, and answer questions, and…self-censorship. You don’t want to know I’m thinking so much of the time. I try to be nice, and put best interests at heart, and have fun without hurting anyone.
And then, recently, I added an About page I can’t live up to—not without ideas or without imagination, etc.
Come last fall, I changed my voice in admiration of someone that doesn’t exist, and then someone that did. This year, I wrote poetry to express a bit of admiration for two real people. In the moment, it’s great. But I burned out a little more. It kills you a little if you let it, knowing an opportunity was lost, or never was.
To the older me, this blog is an incredible waste of time. It happened because I found ‘something I could do.’ I am an incredible fool.
But what about those instances of serendipity, that I kept stumbling on to good things? Unfortunately, now that all comes into question as well.
In order to bring your dreams to life, you have to be solid. You have to work hard.
Not much hard work went into this blog. Research: weak; talent: weak; connections: weak. And as I said, my voice hasn’t been whole, so it’s incomplete beyond measure. Trying to be something, but it can’t keep.
I know this all happened. The physical pains I refuse to talk about make it all clear that this is all real. And so my failing blog is real…
A year of bad health, and no sign of improvement, I’m tired all the time, trying to catch up now, overnights into 7 a.m. So besides learning things to advance my perspective on the world, I’m pretty much floating. Much like my real life situation—no medical intervention, just dying slowly.
The old me can’t believe where I went, and the new me is tired.
…Let’s see if I can write some flash-fiction today. I don’t particularly want to, but…you can’t move forward, doing nothing, right? (Haha, I’m doing nothing with my life with all the preoccupation!)