I haven't written here for a while.

Good on you.

LOL

But today, I am feeling like a brain barf and I am missing my laughtoff (lap top, trying my clever hat on making it sound like laugh it off, but fails miserably. Oh well. on that). So here I am again, being nothing less than an exhibitionist, trying to get off (emotionally) by talking myself up, or down, most likely up, because gravity is for losers. :p

Well, anyway, I am not here to talk about feelings.

Actually, I am.

But I like pretending I don't have them.

Because you know, that makes me sound cool.

Except I have as much emotions as the next person.

I hate it.

Makes me all feely-billy.

I can never really get used to feeling like a loser. Hahaha.

Cheesus cries,

Oh well,

What is it now?

I am talking myself up to do a confident revision of a story. I call it Draft Zero point Five plus point two equals PointSevvy. I don't paticularly try to not make sense you know. I just don't. But anywho, I am constantly writing this term and as you all know I at it and many times I am good at it, it's like god is playing jigsaw with self esteem. I guess that's fair.

But after writing poorly thought papers receiving appropriate mark of C for Crap, you know, I feel like I should kick myself into gear. Push back the idea that I am now a sort of scholar being paid to actually to keep my ABC's limited to the first letter. But yeah, dun dun dun. A C. Two C's actually. How dreadful.

Writing these projects have been in some zombie mode where I think I have digested my own brain or something and I just wanted to get done with it and watch Fairy Tale after. I am tired of thining and stressing and just it.

Which is why I started a private journal titled beautifully as Anxiety Pits where I stagger dumb sentences of my anxieties. It's always open like a gaping hole waiting to feed on my nervous energy. 

It's been instrumental in my writing but sadly I've been ting crap writing so I don't know.

If you haven't noticed this post is actually anxiety pit stand in and I am actually writing something right now and I am trying to talk myself into it.... and I don't particularly know if it's working. I have already spent 15 minutes trying to quiet down the voices in my head but without success. I am terribly tired. I wish I could have a nap.

But revisions. I think... there is something romantic about it. Having a vision. That gift of the first vision, is like a first love misconception. Everything is glaringly pretty and love is blind and dumb and ed up. But that is usuallly what I live for as a writer.

Now because I am so emotionally skewed, revisions, or maybe a serious relationship with an idea seems rather absurd. No. No more second dates. Why because I am unworthy. I am unworthy of your purity... and this is how it is. Ideas left to stale because I am too afraid to defile it, to expose it to the world. Maybe my muse is Rapunzel... hahaha. Oh god. I need a nap so bad...

I am running away now. Hahaha