I decided to start a new blog. My old one was full of crap and too much self-loathing. So, now for the introductory price of $14.99 I offer you 1/2 the crap and 3/4 the self-loathing.
I am trying to write this short story, at first it was for school. But now, it's for something greater. I feel like such a fucking failure in my life. I'm living in perpetual adolescene except more acne, more angst and more responsibility. The purpose of writing this short story was to let me feel like I used to, young, fresh and full of ideas. Except for one little problem, I'm old, used up, and brain dead. Trying to write this short story feels like doing an English Comp assignment after huffing freon. When I was young, I would write my name on a piece of paper over and over again until all the meaning was lost and it resembled nothing more than a bunch of random letters all smashed together. I feel like that's the vibe of this story. I don't know where I'm going with it, and when I re-read it, I cringe. It sounds too much like me, whiny and ridiculous.
And the thing is, I know who the real me is, and no matter how much I try to articulate that in any way shape or form, it's still muddled under my awkardness. I don't want praise or vindication. I just want to get this story out of me.
What the fuck am I doing?
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