Random tidbits about my life, confessions, discoveries, and other things, usually rambly.

Some days I get stuck.



And I don't think I should.

This time,

Like most,

It's because I'm thinking of other people.

What will they think when they read what I write?

I might even chicken out before I finish writing this chapter.

Delete what I've written and go stare at the story I'm trying - without success,

To write.

I've felt for a while,

That I should be perfect.

I think everyone does to some degree.

But it's been in almost every move I make.

My whole life.

It haunts my every step.

I don't know if it's because of being a pastor's kid.

That's probably part of it.

I'm constantly thinking about what you think of me,

If I just did that right,

And oh great,

I think I just messed up,

You probably think I'm horrible now.

It always surprises me,

When someone says they like me.

Or they like what I've written,

And did you actually UNDERSTAND me?

I don't think that's possible.

It's been intensifying lately.

To the point where I haven't even been able to write an e-mail or a Facebook post the last few days.

And I don't really know how I'm going to end this chapter.

Other than to tell you that I don't have a clue why this is.

But I want to write.

It's torture to sit in front of a screen and stare at a blinking cursor,

And have every thought strangled by imaginary expectations.

Oh, I know they're imaginary.

In theory.

But still I sit here and stare.

Posting this will be one - small,

Very small,

Yet huge,


(I would apologize for the rambly-ness of this post, but then again, that would be caring too much about what you think, wouldn't it. Sigh.)

The End

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