Maybe it’s a little too late to start writing this evening. Maybe I’ve put things off for far too long and should be getting ready to rest instead. However, I must persist as that is what I do.

Well, I do a lot of things, but… yeah.

Alrighty, so it’s time to say something important and I can’t think of anything important to say and that’s my fault. I want to point the finger at others but it ends up directed at me and so I can no longer deny that not having anything important to say is on me and not anyone else. However, I still wish to avoid blame and scrutiny, but I’ve got nothing else to offer or say.

Perhaps it is during these cold nights that I’m realising the limitations of  my prowess and so it is now time to work within those limitations. It is now time not to stretch outward, but to stretch inward. It’s time to convalesce after a lengthy period of pointless contortion in the hopes of finding something new. The path that I need to follow has always been here; I’ve just refused to see it where it lies.

I’m realising my limitations and so in realising them I might be able to break free from the shackles of which I’ve allowed myself to be bound by. I can now finally and truly be free, but perhaps it is not freedom that I crave, for that is a strange and unnatural thing to me and so if I end up knowing it I may no longer be able to return to the familiar.

It is possible that I will float away and never know the comfort of the blankets I make use of where I can.

As a side note, I’m remembering the time when I was sleeping on a very small pile of roll out mattresses. That was not a good time in terms of emotional state.

Anyway, I would not have those blankets. I would not have the desk that I use whenever I bang out these lengthy and pointless ramblings. I might not even have my bucket hat, a vaunted item of mine for which I’ve had for quite the long amount of time.

Then again, in this freedom I may no longer have a need or desire for these material items, especially when any old item would do. But then maybe I also wouldn’t persist and that would be the end of that, and… yeah. That would be it and there would be nothing more.

So where do I go from here? I guess I just keep on accepting and go back to writing the same thing that I’ve always written which is different to the same thing that I’ve always written of late. Either that or I just start removing and reposting things I’ve done over the years in the hopes of getting some sort of “clout” of which I can then “deposit” for more “exposure”.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:26:08

More silly stuff.
I think had I stuck with the limitations stuff for the whole thing this would work. As it is it feels a bit all over the place, I think.

Written at home.