the drafts are endless because I just can’t get it right…

You'd think I had more to fucking say over the past swell of time...and I certainly do--in spurts, small jetties of words that come rushing out and then I realize...what I have to say is not well encompassed with just words lately--oh I've got drafts, so many drafts-- dozens of half-saved musings hidden behind these screens. There's this fresh horror that the good guys once again aren't winning and I feel totally fucking paralyzed by it. I think part of my non movement is based in this idea that people are just very fucking unaware and really....why would I burden myself with the monuments of worry when everyone else seems to be rolling right along. I have fifteen half written stories in my head about shit I need to do and part of my paralysis there has and always will be--once I do what I said I would...will that be the end of it all? Like I can change my own future by avoiding mark posts to progress, removing anything too terribly memorable about myself because... Because I really must be an idiot... I have been trying to figure out a way to make a place away from the place that many of ...