My Fucking Feelings

What blogs used to be

I get tired of writing about love and relationships. Sometimes I wish I sold cars. But it wouldn’t last. I don’t like myself when I’m selling. It reminds me of the old me. When I was young and desperate and needing things from other people that I couldn’t give to myself. I don’t want to punch myself in the face like that anymore. I miss the days when blogs were just about spattering paint. Before the lines — listicles and analytics. Before influencers, brand awareness, and calls to action. Before we searched an hour for the perfect picture, that matched your brand. You wrote just because you felt something. Typos meant you were human. It was a journal entry, except you hit post.

Random thoughts and ideas and if you could bring it all back like a boomerang thrown with precision, then great. But if it never comes back and just ends up in someone’s yard, then that’s great too. No one cared. It wasn’t about the return. It was about the feeling you have when you’re running with a kite. Even if that kite has no chance of flying.

We lost that.

First throw.

Today I feel like a spinning hour glass on a frozen computer screen. Not much on my schedule and yet, I don’t have it in me to play catch up or be productive. There’s a thousand articles I “need” to write. Instead I am writing…