Out, Damned Spot!

There’s a spot on my hand.  It’s not a mole, I have plenty of those and I know how they look.  I had one on the same hand as the spot.  It isn’t a freckle either, it’s too weird looking to be a freckle.  It isn’t a pockmark or a scar or a scab.  I know exactly what it is.  There isn’t enough denial in me to pretend.  I could scrub but it would still be there and even if I scrubbed it off my skin I would still know that spot existed on me.  And this damned spot is a problem that won’t let me be.

When It’s The Worst

It’s bad when I decide to get out of the house and head to a coffee shop (any coffee shop), but when I get there I don’t talk to anyone and spend every last second feeling like every set of eyes is on me.  It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself there’s no way that EVERYONE is looking at me.  That it’s self-centered to think that way (I’m not that important, really I’m not).  I still can’t stop feeling awkward and unusual and lonely and scared.  I pack up my backpack (if I even go into the coffee shop to begin with) and walk to my car and realize that I barely talked to three people all day (all to do with work) and that I haven’t actually touched another human being – actual, physical touch – in a week.  The next day, I go out again to try and make some kind of contact but the result is always the same (because I am always the same). And this isn’t the worst.

Edge of Procrastination: Live, Stall, Repeat

Writing is hard – especially when you aren’t doing it.  I should have been writing this whole evening after I got home from work.  I had every intention to get some thoughts down, some outlines laid out, some stories started, etcetera, etcetera, Peter etCetera.  

Turns Out I Was Just Mostly Dead

Boy, has it been a while since I’ve been on here.  I’ve been busy finding myself (turns out I was hiding in the couch cushions the whole time (I’m so sorry for that, please forgive me)).  And maybe it wasn’t that I was busy finding myself but finding my way through and maybe just a little bit afraid of all the things I wrote before.  I even thought maybe I should just delete this and start all over with another blog but screw it.  My habit of quitting things because they aren’t perfect is something I need to break.