I write to breathe but for me there are long spans of time the air is too thick. I say a lot of the time that I write for myself and that may have been the intent in the beginning  but I am a human being. I write for others to read, numbers are down, way down. I am a hypocrite  just like everyone else online. The written word is dying or maybe just mine is? I write and then read something that a friend will write, something provocative and it makes my work feel empty. Select All and Delete.  Does anyone get anything from what I do on here? Have I ever helped anybody? Do I possess any talent for this? Feedback is appreciated, not mandatory. I’m going to keep writing but my keys feel lifeless. Maybe I need to be more topical. Maybe I should quit and just post mindless pictures on Instagram. Maybe I should just quit whining. Writers quit all the time and just fade into the moonlight.

It’s like quitting my job. I had the beginnings of a pretty good career as a salesman. The numbers continued to go up and people recognize your hard work. When you announce that you are leaving, you get plenty of love. “Sorry to see you go.” “Keep in touch.” “You will be missed.” And then the day comes when you leave for the last time and you are forgotten, just a memory of a “guy that once worked here.” This may just be a blog that you remember by, “something I read once…”

I thought that not having a job and being at home would give me more time to write and be more thoughtful. I think I have too much opportunity to think and I am overthinking.  Damn my shitty cross wired brain, damn you. Why can’t I just do something without so much emotion? Why does it have to have meaning?