It’s been a while.

I feel like I don’t know what the hell to do. My whole life, it just stopped – while it kept going. And please, there is no need to comment, I don’t want to hear the platitudes. What’s helpful is writing, nothing else. And I write for myself and I’ve always written for myself, so no need to comment. Take your sadness or wahtever emotion you’re feeling and look inward, not outward.

I can tell by a line of my writing if it’s going to be shit. Or I guess it’s really that I can tell if a line of my writing is shit. Often it starts as shit and then, sometimes it gets better. When I’m writing “for others” it’s usually shit. Sometimes I treat myself like an “other” and it’s usually shit.

What it comes down to I think is “trying”.

Trying fucking sucks.

Fuck trying.

Yoda was right!

I’m just decimated internally – my structure, my beliefs, my hidden and not so hidden truths, my assumptions – it’s all fucking blown to bits. And what have I done…I’ve gone to work.

I’ve gone to fucking work!

For all those that think they understand or who can’t deal with the feelings in themselves that that brings up – fuck off.

Just kidding!
No I’m not.

Kidding.
Yes I am.
No.

It’s ok to laugh. It’s ok to smile and to cry. It’s ok to be hellfire angry. And it’s ok to fuck off.

It’s ok to fuck off.