It isn't that I have nothing to write about. I do. There are days I sit down with my mind full of the story, only to find that I can't focus. My mind is full of a fog that wraps my brain in a soup like mist, an alphabet soup that refuses to form coherent sentences. Thoughts are there in my mind, but I'm unable to structure into any coherence. Random thoughts interrupt every attempt; did I start the laundry or miss my meds? Did I have an appointment? I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open.
No matter how many times I try again, the results are almost always the same. On the days I write 200 words, it feels like a weight is lifted. It doesn't last.
So, I've basically given up. I'm running out of time to finish anything. That's an awful feeling. To see the ending but cannot reach it is hell. You don't stop, but the effort exerted is enormous. You walk away, realizing you're a failure.
I don't know where I go from here. I keep trying but it just feels so hopeless. The things that have happened since 2009 have been just unbelievable. Not just Jerry dying and my getting sicker. There is so much else that has happened I don't dare go into here. I'm tired of battling giants. I'm so over everything.
I won't stop trying to write, to finish at least one of the several stories. In theory, it isn't impossible. Well, nothing is impossible. Is it?
