Writing is hard.

A simple statement that I have come to loathe for it’s accuracy, and succinctness. I knew writing works of any quality would be hard, I mean if it weren’t then everyone would do it. But that isn’t the only hitch, writing anything, even inane drivel can be so frustratingly difficult sometimes that I would like to throw my lap top against a wall in some dramatic display of my frustration. So the question becomes, why? Why write? If I find it so incredibly difficult to put words on a page then why one God’s green Earth do I do it?

The answer is simply because I can not stop. If I don’t find some outlet for the ideas that bounce around my head, I can’t sleep, I get distracted in social situations, hell I even get irritable. Sure most of the ideas I get turn out to be nothing, no structure, no drama. inane tidbits of a story that doesn’t exist as a whole anywhere in my scattered little brain. But occasionally I get something. A small thing, that grows into a much larger sweeping idea that puts itself on my screen. True even those aren’t usually the best, and i have yet to truly finish anything I’ve written for myself, but the truth remains I write because I have to.

But on that note, writing is hard. So I force myself to put words on this blog on a semi regular basis now, just so my fingers get used to writing, so my mind opens up and shit flows onto a fucking page occasionally. Like most of my writing, I don’t know how this post is supposed to end, other then with a period. So.


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