It's almost 3 a.m. and I'm sat here in front of my computer wondering how is it possible that my dumbass has managed to trigger my reoccuring backpain by doing only 10 minutes of a pilates workout during the day, and more imporatantly wondering if whatever I'm creating will ever see the day of light.
I say I want to create something that people can relate to by telling stories about my life or talking about the ongoing worries I have in my daily life, and hopefully someone somewhere will read it and feel less lonely because they are not the only going batshit crazy over the things that they worry about in life. But is that what this is really about ? Maybe this is just a selfish/attention seeking reindeition of of a diary, pouring out the worries in my head and hoping someone catches a whiff of the sadness and comes running in my direction to save me. Or maybe it's my attempt to join the creative crowd, a shout in the direction of the general world, trying to blast out the statement: " Hey I'm creative too!! I make art too!!" even though I'm actually not sure if I belong to that crowd.
Either way, I've decided to go with it, to go with the flow, to finish what I've begun, to cover the topics that I said I would, even though I promised no one but myself, but it takes me keeping a promise to myself to prove to myself that I'm alive. Not just a body going through the motions, but someone with a soul.
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