My drive to write is far stronger than my subject matter. Irony is not a great device for recounting days filled with nothing. The practice of making the ordinary seem interesting is an art form I practice only sporadically.
What do you say when it all seems the same?
I cut myself emotionally every time I look back, undermining my drive to move on. I have to accept that the past will not change, and the present will only ever offer up possibilities that I make for myself. So, new rule: no more looking back. I am tired of bleeding.
It's not all the same, however much it may sometimes seem like it. We talk of circles as though they're inescapable (and maybe that's true), but it doesn't mean we can't introduce something new. The ordinary is as interesting as I decide it should be, and infinity fills my days. (The greatest irony of all is that nothing and everything are the same.)
No more looking back. My drive to write and my drive to move on prove that I am strong.
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