This is the third attempt I’ve made at trying to write something this morning. The first ended very shortly into the actual writing and it’s due to feeling I could get a better start. The second is due to having to get up and walk away. Now we are at attempt number three.

Now I don’t know if I will get anywhere with this one and maybe that’s appropriate. Maybe this bit of writing has no business being written and I’m just trying to squeeze things out of nothing once more. That is a possibility that does not weigh on my mind and maybe that is something that will not change.

Maybe it will change in the new year. Certainly won’t change in the old year as if it does, it will then be something that will have changed in the old year, though I guess it depends on how loose people are with how the progression of narration goes and all that other stuff. It’s not something I know too much of, or at least as far as I’m aware, it’s not something that, as far as I’m aware, I know too much of, so therefore here’s a clunky sentence that gets that idea across; specifically, the idea of not knowing too much about narrative flow.

I guess the phrase functions as a poetic device but that’s neither here nor there right now.

So I’m sitting here and right now I’m in the last day of the year. That’s alright; there still are things to do. Tomorrow is the first day of the new year but for now I’m not there and it doesn’t matter too much anyway. The flow of time continues on and there is no massive change. I’ll keep trundling along; I’ll keep going the way I’m going.

Sometimes it can be good to try and see the new year as some sort of journey ahead where there are things that could or could not happen, but overall one filled with wonder and mystery and all that stuff, but that’s something I’ll probably crap on about later. Right now I just want to think about getting some things done because I’m tired and I need rest, but I need to get things done before the year ends.

Really there is no reason as to why I need to, but I feel a need to and it’s probably a bad thing to latch onto, but I’m doing so and so I’m continuing on and all that stuff. Being stubborn, pushing through and continuing on to wherever I am led by my own hand, though perhaps I should just let myself be led by meandering a bit more often. Still push on through but with no foundation and see what happens.

Maybe I’ll be carried through words that carry as though an ocean breeze hitting an idyllic slice of scenery, but that’s something to worry about later as I’m quite quickly running out of words for this rambling.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:13:87

More of a struggle to write this than I’d hoped, but sometimes that’s the way things go.

Written at home.