Writing about not writing
Feeling guilty
about
everything
What’s your hustle?
Have you monetized your hobby yet?
I don’t have any hobbies.
Can’t equate my worth to my productivity
I suspect laziness
Nobody ever remembers who finished second
We continue to spin on this axis.
A dollar.
A dollar.
A dollar.
Time is money.
“As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.”
That’s what he said.
Make myself another coffee.
Not able to focus long enough to read a book.
Don’t want to experience the slightest new thing
Seems like a waste of time
Waste my time someone please
There’s loneliness creeping in again.
FUCK!
Feel guilty about being lonely.
The excuse is the pandemic
The truth is terror
What happens to your body when you haven’t been touched for more than
1000 days?
What happens to your heart?
Made coffee, used the last of the milk.
I need to go out.
I need to shower.
I need to vacuum.
I need to do laundry.
I need to
Dance
I’ve decided to dance.
Dance like no one is watching
but post it on Instagram so that maybe someone will.
Maybe some day some one person will be a witness to my life.
For now, my “followers” have to be
You can think I’m basic or you can think I’m delightful
It depends how closely you pay attention
But let me let you in on a little secret.
(whispers) i’m incandescent.
