This Procrastinator's Journey

So this is, I guess, my first official post on this blog since ‘Flash. Wait. Fail.’, and I think I have yet to decide what my intended purpose for this blog is. I think my initial thought was that I was going use it as an avenue to post short works of fiction, but knowing myself, I won’t really only do that. I imagine I’ll use this as a way to post short fiction, of course, but perhaps write book reviews, too. Perhaps just to write about anything. I'm currently kicking around a few things I would like to write about over the next couple months, one of them being a review of the book I'm reading right now. It's changed my life in a very meaningful way. I guess, really, I'm just using this platform as an excuse to write in some capacity every once in awhile. Kind of like a Live Journal when that was a thing.

Is that still a thing?

Am I dating myself?

Anyway, I start this journey without a plan, but I’ve lived my whole life up to this point pretty much flying by the seat of my pants and it’s worked out ok for the most part. That’s also not a lie. I’m a procrastinator and I’m lazy and I decide things spur of the moment. Kind of like deciding to start this blog. I have done it my entire life. Once as a child, I just randomly decided to make a TV out of a cardboard box. It had changeable channels and a remote and everything.

So welcome to my blog and my Procrastinator’s Journey into actually doing something. Here’s hoping I can bring you some kind of fantastic musings or madness at bare minimum at least once a week. That is the name of the blog, after all. Here’s hoping you decide to read it and you get something out of it. I would like to give you all the feels.

I think at the base of our human existence is a vain hope that we can leave someone just a little better than we found them, even if it’s just by writing a few words.

Thanks for stopping in.

Flash. Wait. Fail.

The white space mocks me.

The black bar waits impatiently; flashing with anticipation. It judges me and the words I fail to write. It waits… taunting me to fill the white space that mocks me with the words that will change my future.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

It waits. I wait. Impatient and impotent.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

Some people look at the white space and see limitless potential. They see an endless space in which to create new worlds to exist in, new thoughts to change minds, new people to bring to life. They see opportunity.

I see more room to fail.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

I feel sick. My head is noisy. It’s cluttered and clouded with things left unsaid; words and thoughts crammed into such a small space. Such an infinitely large, yet distressingly small space. The words jumble. The thoughts mix. They become incoherent, swirling in an endless vacuum of chaos. I stare at the mocking white space, full of malice and judgement.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

The white space mocks. The black bar flashes. I wait for the words that never come, from the cluttered space that never clears, from the noisy head that never quiets.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

I sit and I stare.

Flash.

Trapped in the dust that never settles.

Wait.

Mocked and judged by the people in my mind, from the worlds I never created.

Fail.

This glass is half empty.