On the month marking eighteen years since I started this blog - which means eighteen years since I started blogging, and writing seriously - I am going to say this: I think I am all written out.
I know, it always goes the same way. I have things I want to write, I have mapped some of them out, and I just haven't gotten around to them. Only this time I decide not to write them just yet, until the thought disappears and I end with nothing on the slate again. And this happens over and over because I am lazy now, like really lazy.
Actually, in the middle of writing this, I decided to watch a music video and got distracted by the whole thing.
Is this blog going to actually say goodbye soon?
I mean, I suppose... well, I did say, probably privately - but likely publicly as well - that I want to keep this going until I die. But things happened, and I slowly realize that I don't want to write my deepest thoughts on here anymore. Not that anybody's reading, or was ever interested, but I find the whole process of articulating it exhausting. Or maybe it's just the past few months. That was, is, exhausting - and also, there is no use repeating all of that on here. It just makes me look bad.
But maybe I can still force myself to write those things, and I'll publish them to no fanfare, and I'll delay any decision further down the line. As usual.
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