Sometimes I have to stop and think, and I wonder why I even started writing in the first place. I wonder what it's worth. I wonder if it's even worth it at all anymore. I wonder if it's keeping any of my sanity like it used to. Not that that's the only thing I wonder about, but it's just one of the things. It doesn't ever really become a problem unless I over think it. And I haven't done that in a long time, so I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. But that's part of my hamartia. A hamartia is a fatal flaw. And I'm not totally sure what mine is, but I'm pretty sure the being analytical and over thinking things is part of it. Maybe. Most likely. I honestly don't know. Sometimes I wish I did or do know. There are a lot of things I wish I had known. But maybe it's better that I didn't. There are also things I wish I knew now. So many questions, too many. Not enough answers. And that's the thing. There will never be enough answers.

The End

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