Slam it down and forget it. Word dump one.
Right now. As I sit in front of this blank piece of … wait. Scratch that. It’s not even paper. This is much less real than that.
This is part of the problem — when I really think about it. So much of what we do now feels so fleeting, and so muddy. I’m not sitting in front of a blank piece of paper. I’m sitting in front of a “virtual representation” of a blank piece of paper… and that fake piece of paper is really just a series of code when you get down underneath everything. As I type — more strings of code are added onto the already existing series and this word processing software reflects what I’m writing back to me.
If I make a mistake… I delete it. I don’t cross it out. I don’t start over. I press a key labeled “backspace” and hold the key down until it removed all of the lines of text that I don’t want present anymore. It’s a false representation of something concrete.
I want to write. The pointlessness of it all plagues me every time I start. I’m discouraged before I put down the first letter. I write in bursts like this… these little half-assed sentences to help me cope. To help me complete “something.” To feel some sense of accomplishment in a very little way. To be able to end it all with a “period” at any moment is important — because If I can’t… If I don’t write exactly the way I’m thinking… with the ellipses and everything… the pauses, the hyphens, the run-on sentences… If I don’t do it all this way and maintain the ability to just stop at any moment — then I’ll likely just delete it all together.
That’s all I want to write right now. Damn it.