Summer is like a giant notebook that I usually intend to fill with pages of words, but never quite get around to using all the words I want to. I've been reading more than writing this summer. Fine. My head has been drowning in thoughts that I mean to put on here or pieces of paper, but I ditch the clocks and run to my next goal in the figurative notebook. I need to write more. And I will. I have a new desk now. My elbows don't sink into the wood, like they did in my 15 year old desk. Maybe my supported elbows can motivate my fingers to give breath to this blog. Tonight, I am just too tired and upset with myself to write much of anything. But I will be back soon.. Sooner rather than later..
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
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