I sit here and I wonder as to where a lot of the month has gone, as a lot of it certainly has gone. In a couple of days it will be December and the rush will hit and then it will be February and everything will be slow. Every day will be felt and every day will be lived, but sometimes that’s the way things must go, I suppose.
I wonder as to why I am writing right now, but as always I know the answer. I want to try and pretend that the answer is different, but it never is. In any event, I am sitting here and I am writing as I desire to write. I desire to throw out a series of words and leave them out there in the Internet abyss and then forget that they exist.
There is something beautiful about writing and there also is something ugly, and it can tread a thin line. It allows us to express in ways familiar to most, even if we do not write.
I think about my lack of writing over the past few weeks and how I need to do more, or at least strongly desire to do more and so this is what I’m trying to do more of, and I hope that I can. I hope that I can get more writing done and I hope that I can get back on track. There is a lot that I need to cover and I need to do so in a rather short amount of time, but that’s not different from the usual way I operate and so I’ll just keep on going with that.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been exhausted to a greater extent than usual, but I sit here now and I can do things right now, and I’ll keep on doing things as there are things that I need to do. I need to take advantage of what time I have and just keep on going, and hopefully I can get through it all before the next time I feel rather incapable of doing things.
Maybe there won’t be a next time and maybe I’ll just be able to keep on going. Of course I hope that that will be the case but there’s no telling sometimes. Sometimes you go through periods of being unable to do things and usually you bounce back. Maybe you don’t and then you have to work out what to do with what you have. Maybe you can’t do anything, but you still do what you can anyway. Maybe you choose to rest.
Maybe I’m too stubborn and I should let go and relax more, but I don’t want to. I want to do what I can with what I can, and maybe nothing will come from it. Maybe nothing will come from anything I do, but I still will try because, even though this is slowly wrapping up, I don’t regret doing this.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:46:71
I thought this would be longer, but it’s probably too long. Oh well.
Written at home.