I am suffering from writer's block.
The type that won't let you hone in on any specific topic and just write, instead it makes your fingers run around the keyboard like headless chickens. And I have got to say, this is growing very old.
I suppose I could just write about things I know. That would be a very short blog seeing as how many things I thought I knew, have proven false.
Before now, I knew that when you say "I love you." it would be something worth fighting for.
Before now, I knew that if I ever fell out of an impossible love, I would be devastated.
Before today, I knew that my whims were nothing more than just me being fickle.
But I was sick of fighting, so scratch the first one.
And I am not so much devastated as I am ironically happy, so mark off the second.
And as far as my fickle abilities, speaking of them as some super human power of course, I am growing a little tiresome of my whims being whims.
I want the things I grow fond of to stick around. I hate that I push things away. I hate that I overthink EVERYTHING. I hate that I dream big and then settle for less.
But I guess I don't know anything anymore.