Writer’s Block.

I wouldn’t say that I ever have writer’s block. Well, I guess it depends on the actual definition. Sometimes I cannot figure out what I want to write about but that doesn’t mean there are not things for me to write about. It just means I am unsure of how I am feeling and where my current passions lie. I have been feeling that lately and have recently (in the past 10 minutes) figured out all of what you are reading here. I feel sad. I want to write about sad. I want to have others who are also in the sad with me. Figuring this out still doesn’t give me a set answer as to what to write about. I can go on and on like I do in my own private journal that is most likely horrendously boring to the average person. Words written documenting emotions and historical events with the dryness of death valley. Emotions written without being felt. Thoughts written without being pondered. It’s a weird thing for me, this journaling. It had only ever began as a way to avoid being alone and to make sure I documented what was going on in my life as though someday someone may want to know what was going on. I guess that is the hope of being known by someone. Being curious if someone could really know us from the inside out and still love us. I thought one day maybe someone would finally know me and love me, most likely after my earthly departure. Maybe it is then I would be able to allow some trust in the love people say they have for me. Or maybe it will be then I will just see people who wished they had wanted to love me instead of people who actually wanted to. Or people who are only curious like the looky lous passing a bad accident during rush hour on the Interstate. My life could be likened to that of a car wreck, a train wreck, a dumpster fire. It’s true. There has always been something a little special about how I choose to do life. And it aint the good kind of special either. It’s okay though, I wanted a dramatic life and that’s what I got. I didn’t want to be forgotten and ignored anymore so I refused to be. I will still refuse to be.

Now the only problem is everyone remembers and forgets based on different experiences, and how will I ever be able to decipher and act on those experiences with each different person so I am never forgotten again?

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