So I was going to write about how something was taken away from me which made me angry, but it was completely and utterly pointless (well, more than usual) and what happened wasn’t anything that could be considered something big by any measure, so I decided not to, but the problem is that, once again I have nothing to write about and am force to pull something out of the air around me in the hopes that an idea will come to me as quickly as I can type (hopefully faster than that, bu let’s not hold our breath here), giving me some sort of stroke of genius that will leave something more than boring to put here.
However, I don’t really feel like doing much writing at the moment anyway, thus putting me in a position to force my way through writing until I get back to wanting to write and thinking in whatever way that I do in order to write the things that I do, leaving you, the reader, to engage in the act of reading the writing that I write.
With all of that being said, I probably don’t have any ideas right now. I probably won’t have any until some undetermined point in the future and am thus left to try and wallow in my misery (that doesn’t exist) whilst I wait out the dearth of ideas to ride a pony on a caramel road down on in order to somehow vindicate my inability to come up with something that could be considered worthy of my flying fingers over the keys of destiny to create on a magical parchment of data that will enable the viewing of the words as they fly past your face in some sort of continuously flowing direction because they are the words that the text would be comprised of, thus leading to the reading of the writing without fighting.
I also probably don’t have much interesting things to say, for I am currently silent and do not feel like talking as that would involve stopping the writing that I am typing and that is not something that I want to do as I feel that I am currently on a roll into nothingness and all I can do is continue to go further down into the veritable darkness and see where it takes me as I blindly waddle my way further into something that seems to have no end in sight.
Well, no end until I reach the end, of which then I shall see the other side and realise that I haven’t really gone anywhere other than out of bed and into the bathroom without bumping into anything, which is some kind of amazing achievement.
Well, it’s only amazing sometimes. Most of the time it’s routine to not bump into anything in the darkness whilst making my way to the bathroom.
Well, I hope that it’s routine. I also hope that it’s fairly straightforward.
It’s really good to hope.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:05:31
Well, time to think!
Written at home.