I Don’t Have Time to Write…

…and it is too intimidating to start. Most times.

That white box of near limitless possibilities of characters to be placed in an order that portrays an important thought or feeling, or meant to relay something personal to someone who stumbles over them.

I want it to mean something, but to still seem casual. But, I’ve got to get attention quick, right? Or else, they won’t get far enough to find your point.

Or, are all these complications just excuses. Who cares if no one sees most or close to all. I need to start. Just start. Get something out, and on, and into the world instead of just in my head. Where it was safe. Except for all the damage it was doing to me in there.

I have to try harder. And, I expect a lot of these will just be me complaining about myself or how hard it is. But, that is still effort. Excruciating to read and follow, but effort none-the-less.

That thought happened during my walk in the park alone today. I started to think that the better changes in my life were when somebody took pity on me or gave me an opportunity. But, I had to be honest and remind myself that, in order to get to those places, I HAD put in some effort. I had changed something. I, in whatever small capacity, was motivated and did something and THAT put me where I was able to make improvements in my life.

I can’t forget that. It is too easy to. I have to try, first.

This is my trying. Or, starting to.