Vanity Card #11

After pouring myself a hot cup of coffee I jump on the computer and open the drafting page. Usually it's unknown to me what words I'll regurgitate. Trying to spell "regurgitate" was a momentary challenge. I'm procrastinating cleaning my house before I have people over for board games. The fog is thicker than molasses outside. My mind is littered with 'I can't' and 'what ifs' that are not realistic enough to bring me down, but it's enough to tie my into a knot and paralyze me in an uncomfortable chair for a little bit. I need to write. Oh to explore the injustices of my life or not. To express gratitude for the hundredth time today. To make a to-do list that I certainly won't follow. There is nothing that drives me to type this vanity card except that I have this deep rooted urge to type something. If I don't do this now, I will feel weird and incomplete for the rest of the day. The caffeine is kicking in and I fear my sentences will turn to gibberish, which by the way, I hear you could major in now. That's not true. I don't know why I said that. See what I mean? It's not that I have anything to say, I just need to say something. There is comfort in knowing that the void will always have an open ear and an open heart. If all else fails in my future writing career, I can always speak into the vast nothing and hear the echoes fall lower and lower into an endless something, or nothing. We forget we have the option to do our hobbies for us instead of money. We forget we have the option to fuck off and do what we love for us only. After pouring myself a hot cup of coffee I jump on the computer and open the drafting page. Usually it's unknown to me what words I'll regurgitate.