Some days I am eager to write. With my head full of ideas, weird constructs, and metaphors galore putting words down seems easy.
Then there are days like today, where thinking is almost “painful” and ideas and allegories are stuck in the mire of my mind.
So why even write? To be honest, I am not sure.
I know each day holds something for us to jot down…an event, action, or consequence…and writing about having “no clue” what to put on “paper” was a clever use of time and an honest approach. Honest in that it is not a false, picture-taking note indicating everything is right with the world when everything might really be falling apart.
So here it is…writing without a cohesive thought. Writing just because it is sometimes therapeutic to do so. Writing because I want to avoid having to do other things which are subtly calling out to me (do chores, make meals, declutter again, organize, do this and that).
And because I have no real thought to write about, I will end this note just about…