Reattempting and now with the timer going. Realised I have more drafts than I started the year with, though it might be less and I’m not paying attention. Yet to be determined.

Anyway, making another attempt. Going to keep on going and maybe, just maybe I can actually succeed this time.

There are things that I have been trying to do, and right now I’m feeling okay. Not as miserable as I implied just before. Still miserable, but things are getting better. They always are, really, but right now they are and that’s a good thing. That’s always a good thing, I think. Need to just keep on persevering.

Anyway, I’m on the clock. I need to leave soon and head on over to meet with people. Mete and be liked and be hated and all those things. Things are in motion and that’s good. It’s good that things are in motion, but could things be in more motion than they current are? That can only be solved by walking. By engaging in locomotion of the forward variety. Can I do that? Yet to be determined.

Many things are, and I am thinking about what it is that I am currently saying, and now I’m getting a burst of speed. Will this see me the whole way through to where I think I need to be? I don’t know, but I must follow it. I must follow the path and get to the location. I must be the locator and follow the path and make sure I don’t go too far. If I go too far, then I’ll have gone too far and that’s not something that I want to do, to be honest. Don’t want to go too far; don’t want to go far enough, either. Maybe I should just sit still. Cancel all plans. Find where everything else lies. Don’t know if I can do that. Can do it, but don’t know if I can.

That makes sense.

Perhaps if I look at my comb long enough it’ll turn into a mirror and all the answers I seek will become apparent to me. Maybe I will become an apple and then my worries will be limited to worms and biting. A good goal to aim for. A good goal to not aim for. A good way to find myself among that which embiggens me in a manner so causally known to only a few and very intensely known to fewer. Who is to say at this juncture in time? Not me.,

So I guess I now doff my cap and wonder about the wondering, and I try to find my way back to where I was and I’m still stringing words together in the hopes that everything makes sense in the end, because nothing makes sense and everything is so real and intense and I am feeling it, and that’s okay. There’s still plenty of years left in the tank and I’ll get to where I’m going, eventually.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:04:49

This is sort of a thought cleanser. Good speed, absolute mess.

Written at work.