Another day wasted. Another day tired. Another day where I wrote a thing and then didn’t do the thing so it meant I scrapped the thing, but it was worth scrapping. It was worth throwing away.

Where are those words going to go now? I don’t know, but I also don’t remember them. Maybe that is unfair. I don’t know.

I know that I sit here and I’m trying to get something across. I don’t want another day to slip into the tedium of nothingness. I don’t want to lose another day to a lack of productivity. I want to keep on going and keep writing, and I hope I get enough done. I need to finish some reviews but that isn’t happening today, but I am writing now, at least.

I’m trying to think of what the future holds right now, or at least trying to think of an idea of what the future could hold. I’m trying to think of things, but my mind is clouded by the fatigue I’ve wrought, and I don’t know how much more energy I have before I pass out.

Anyway, I’m thinking about all the words I’ve written, and I wonder how many of them were worth reading. I’ll probably say this again soon enough, but I’ve weaved a series of thoughts and ramblings about life, and I prefer to weave life over highlights, but I still have to wonder as to how much of it is worth it, and how much of it is monotonous drivel. Still, I’ve done it and it’s now part of my history, and that’s fine. That’s okay.

But now I sit here and I have to think about some things. I have to think about what I have and have not created, and the time I’ve spent sitting here writing about things when it could’ve been time better spent elsewhere. I have to think about what is floating away and what is leaving, and if what I invite in is worth the trade.

I want to keep walking toward the sunset, and through the night, and toward whatever else is out there, and it’s happening, but it brings about a lot of reflection, I guess. It could be worse, of course. This isn’t a bad place to be. I’ve been lucky enough to be able to float along and make connections, and see people come and go, but there’s also some hurt here too, and maybe that’s part of what it all needs to keep floating on.

Eventually it will be beyond the horizon behind me and I’ll be walking through the dawn, and the words that carry weight may be what I take, but I hope I can detach them from this.

I hope I can take them to whatever comes next, when that comes, but for now I’ll just keep walking. I’ll keep walking and reflecting, and eventually I’ll get there. I’ll get to where I want to be, and that will be that.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:16:17

Not a bad speed.

A bit more reflective or openly introspective than usual, and I guess that’s gonna happen here and there, but this one feels a bit more raw in a sense.

Written at home.