I Write Something

I Write Something

Writing about not being able to write is possibly the biggest cop-out there is, so it doesn’t surprise me that I’m doing it.

I wish I could say the lack of content on this site is due to my busy lifestyle and trying to keep up with how popular I have become, but I think we all know that would be a lie. The things I have posted in the past month or so have been from the comfort of my own bed where I plan to shrivel up and die – at some point.

If I didn’t actually have to leave my bed every day I wouldn’t. I’d willingly let my body seize up and invest in a commode. Please send postcards and well wishes on my journey to becoming a stagnant thing and getting myself into Madame Tussauds.

Instead of being present and doing things, I’m constantly reading as a way to avoid writing anything myself. Writing is how I put my thoughts into a semi-coherent sequence and deal with them one-by-one, so by not doing it I’ve stunted myself in ways other than my height.

This is why I’m writing – now – when I don’t actually have anything to write about. This isn’t to guide you through to a ridiculous discovery I have made about myself and how I’m completely invested in becoming a better person. I just wanted to write something; so that there is a small possibility I can maybe write myself out of this hole I’ve dug myself into.

If I knew anything about structure maybe I’d dabble in creative writing or poetry, but English Language isn’t my thing.

What is my thing, though, is being over-emotional and clingy.

I really need to see my dog soon, or maybe a shrink.

Have a good Christmas break, Y’all.

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