I’m so tired of my writing.
There’s so much writing out there.
There’s so much said, done. There’s so much written, read. There’s so much of everything, really.
What’s there to add?
What’s there to do, when everything else is done?
Activism. Yoga. Arts.
There’s some tools left, for me to uncover.
But what if I get bored, again? What if I lose track, once more? What if I forget, why I started?
I’m not sure.
But I must, give it a try. If not, I might die here.