It’s amazing to me that every time I carefully set down to write something, anything really, I totally lose all interest in it. I have nothing left to say. I used to say everything and anything. Times have changed. I wrote nearly a quarter of a million words in just a few years by writing my thoughts on life each evening.
Now, I can’t even manage a few words a day about anything at all.
I don’t like the world around me any more. My life personally is going just fine, I’m OK. The world however, is just atrocious, I can’t stand just about anything on the news, conversation has all but left me.
Communication is dead.
Communication is key.
Sometimes just typing out as I think leads me to places I never thought to go. I buy books for writing, my chosen medium is pixels. I live to write with pens I’m scared to lose. The systematic way never worked for me, planning, charting, editing, testing, I’d always rather just let it out there, there’s not much to just put out there though anymore.
I catch my internal narration taking me places I once went, I usually stop before I get there.
I can’t help but wonder if life has gotten that much more complicated or I’ve just let my guard down, become discouraged and let myself become too wrapped up in things that I just didn’t notice before. I lean towards the latter.
I’m consumed by media I despise. That ends now, useless drivel is getting thrown out. I’ve got to get back in the groove, even if the groove has changed so much I’m not sure I recognize it anymore.
Music used to be the road that could take me anywhere. It used to make the worst day seem OK and the best day become memories that will live in my mind forever. This spoken word has devolved into noise to occupy my mind instead of focusing on the silence around me.
I feel my mind going from a fit and keen to wasting and indifferent to nearly everything. I’m consumed by thoughts of non-importance.
I think I just might not have anything to say…