The urge to write has been lacking recently. Words just don’t come out. Not like before at least. It’s like my brain just stopped. Done. No more. Please. But life goes on and I just try to keep up. Many days go by and I don’t have a clue what went on. Just wishes of what could happen. Anyway maybe I’ll write more just to get me thinking again.
Whatever happens to people, people find a way to live. Natural disasters, poor living standards, emotional trauma, people find ways to cope with it and live on. Yet who am I to not be able to live on. My issues aren’t large compared to others in the world, but its all I know.
Nothing have I not obtained. It’s not like I got everything I wanted right away. Sometimes waited years to get what I’ve desired, but what have I not got. A life to blessed is what I have and all it does is diminish my desire to live. The will to move on slows the more I get everything I wanted.
How do people with much more troubles than me live, because they have things they want. Things they dream of during the long nights. I dream of not. Everything is a bore to me, but that’s a story for another time.
People are like books waiting to be read to those willing to listen.
So if you’ll lead me your ear I’ll tell you mine.