I have been sitting here for four hours trying to write something. If you think scratching a mosquito bite is satisfying, try writing something then using the delete key to erase it. Shit is cathartic. But also I a little bit want to kill myself. I wrote a post about north nodes (astrology- silent eye roll), love, writing process. Delete, delete, delete. Yet here I am refusing to give the fuck up. I’ve deleted thousands of words. I think it has something to do with becoming extremely self-conscious about my introspection but this is not my diary. Trust. My diary is a special place where boys go to die. No, I’m joking. It’s just full of endless fucking expletives (about boys). I’m also kind of fucking sick of the anecdotes and mean sarcasm- don’t leave me! I promise that will return but until I feel mean and sarcastic I’m not going to do it. Oh wow, this is probably why clowns and comedians kill themselves.

I took a breather. There’s no concept of time here on the plains of the internet wasteland (although it has now been almost 7 hours since i began today’s tale). Still low on the good old ‘ideas’ basket. In my transitive dream state I had a thought on patience. About how I’m learning it as we speak and how it is my least favourite virtue. I then also obsessively read through pages of horoscope predictions. Will look to anything for answer.

 Day 20. I tire of my own thoughts. The days are shaped by psychological breakthroughs that wash away like grains of sand to sea. I am fearful that time escapes me and soon I shall return to the penury that is western living and modern life. While I remain in my self-mandated exile I experience a comforting alienation. Awash between two cultures I belong only to this marooned island of cyber space that holds no territory. I seek asylum.

Wow. I just did that. Just absolutely lost my fucking mind. I told you I’m an achiever so not being able to post by my own mental deadline (everyday before 9am, my time) spun me out and true confessions- I’m usually a piece a head. There’s always something simmering so I am not completely fucked by the imaginary standard I set myself (patience little heroine!). Well. I’m out. I have nowhere to hide and nothing to say. It’s lazy writing, talking just to push a word count. With that in mind I will bow out gracefully until tomorrow. Thank you for your patience. You have more of it than I do. I just really didn’t feel capable of talking today. I probably have some kind of jungle fever, hypochondria or questionable mental health. Just fucking post it. Get it done and start again tomorrow.

xx SJ