The daily grind is to difficult to find for writing. I admire all who write consistently for that takes discipline that’s foreign to me. If I could write a novel it would have thirty first chapters plus 15 finals. The in between is beyond mental capacity to focus and dictate. Even when feeling “even” its hard to focus on anything except the moment. Then when necessary ideas enter the mind they become extremely exhausting for the rest of the body. That means the body will need more rest just to do what is deemed necessary to live in society. Such as that shower which is way downstairs, seems to far away, and I just was there yesterday, anyway. I fell asleep which was a victory for me but to wake and start everything again seems to much with new ideas moving in. So I return to focusing on the task of tomorrow with the hope that the next day will be like yesterday. A day with nothing new. Then the old energy can be renewed again to think of something that I don’t ever plan on finishing. Or finally finishing but with nothing in between like a blank stare at a blank page with last years date.
Ready to Quit Already
A Pneu Poet Uncategorized 1 Minute
Published by A Pneu Poet
ASD, OCD, BP, PTSD just to name a few. Writing autistic artistry and compulsive craftiness just to share yet another view from the chosen few. Out of Sound Mind was created to find new kinds of expression mixed with old lessons. Also, if you so desire search Outofsoundmind latest single on iTunes, SoundCloud, and many more major digital music distributors world wide. View all posts by A Pneu Poet