The key to the heart. Is it different for everyone? Is it the same for anyone?
Lost in the words, lost in no words.
I smell like rotting discipline.
Do I need a plan? What is my plan? What would my plan be if I needed one?
The only thing that hasn't changed in my life over the past three decades is the "writer's bump" on my middle finger.
I need a storm.
Always trying to figure stuff out. Always. Rarely living. Always doing, but not the things that seem to matter. A day of "busy nothings" as they say. Sweet nothings, now those are actually something.