I hesitate to just begin.  That is the only thing that works, I am afraid to tell you.  You have to be willing to use the old second person tactics, the long sentences that are chock-full of words that could easily be whittled down if we were to be editing any of this for concision.  Editing any of it for any reason whatsoever.  Everything running right now makes me hesitant as fuck.  Hesitant to curse, to wear that outfit, to be that person, to think that I might be okay from one day to the next because I get undermined left and right by my own relaxed sense of self.

If I relax, I’m crushed out of the blue.  If I’m careful to watch my six, to duck and clench, the mallet’s flat surface drops on my head as I watch it fall.  Either way.  It’d be one thing if I thought people might be gentle.  Before, in olden times, you had the consideration that if you fucked up,it would be awful, but they would not be out to stomp on your soul.  Nobody has stomped on my soul, but I still feel deeply unnerved that all the soft edges are sharp and flat and swung like mallets and morningstars.  Still, the trundling that was ever done in the face of such things trundles and trudges and whines and moans its way forward.  And in this case, that trundling comes with a steady paycheck that covers your anthologist’s limited expenses.

It is a lot easier to dig deep and find your motivation to smile and move forward when you know you’re going to be able to buy food on your way home.

See, there, two hundred whole words that fly as quickly as breath does just so long as we let the spigot run and don’t hurry to spin it shut.  I have to take every reminder I can get that this is possible and not to give up before I hit my mark.  If you stop doing something that matters to you for a while, you start to get the impression tht maybe it doesn’t matter all that much to you.  Well, in this case, I want to be quite clear as to the value of making the post, of being present enough to listen to critique and review my thoughts on the day.  I think it is so desperately essential to my ability to potentially have any success here.

Tomorrow, perhaps I’ll look back and feel cheered that I did it, but also so that I can review what I wrote here and see if any of it made a lick of sense at all.  Tomorrow, thoughts on love and all that is unsure and intangible in this world.  I definititively have more to say on that subject, but the need for sleep is making my eyelids exhausted and my brain doubly so.  We will have to table that whole discussion until sometime tomorrow, and in the intermission drink some sort of terrible tea.

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