Everyday I’ve been telling myself to write, and every night I’ve been kicking myself for not writing. Empty promises are exhausting, and terrible for self-esteem. What is WRONG with me? (I’ve been wondering.) Where does the time in the day go? How will I ever write a book if I can’t even make a blog entry? I’m a deadbeat. These are four thoughts out of one billion I’ve had since stopping writing.
I haven’t been journaling at night, either, and I’m sure it’s no coincidence that my mind has been extra cluttered chaos.
So I’m going to start small; no use in trying to cram everything that’s happened over the past 3 months in 1 blog entry…I will start with today.
Today there’s been nothing to report. I just had a Capri Sun for the first time since I was maybe 12. It was way too sugary and way-too-room-temperature. This will be the highlight of my day. This is me being dramatic. More later.