Nothing else

A

Bleak feeling today tied in part to a lack of creative activity and that whatever I did make would be worthless even so. Can I and should I break free of current habits and cycles to do more? The answer is a resounding maybe.

And a partly envy of other persons who have people to spend time with in person, who seem to have fun and do things they enjoy midst even terror and a bleak desperation to survive.

B

Love is hard, and painful, and demands sacrifice.

What am I willing to give up? Not a damn thing. But I'm quiet and obliging and people think I'm worth it and without that commitment and taking risk there will inevitably come hurt run up against the sharp edges of the world. That would happen anyway but without giving something up, without fiercely and wholly how could we hope to overcome?

I'm never going to be fit for a serious relationship while I'm still this person.

Desperation

I need to write something. That's a small determination within my power. I believe it is? Even though I'm putting a lot of my personal-time energy into getting to grips with Pathfinder and making that game happen I should be able to spare at least some time this week to compose words. That doesn't seem like too much to ask of myself. Next weekend, a week from now, I want to be able to say I've written some fiction. Even if it is only a handful of words. Even if they get deleted or replaced the very next time I open a writing implement.

Otherwise, what am I? Just someone who "wants to" and never "does". I need to do something and to feel that I am doing something.