Why am I doing this?

Not sure, actually.  I haven’t written in over two years.  My soul is dusty, the words that were once there sunken and contaminated by tar like an oil spill.  I figure it’s about time to start sifting through the sludge and strive to start recovering from the environmental disaster of my creativity.

For years, I was pressured by those I loved to share my work with them.  Then, when I finally did, it was akin to convincing a cat to bathe to get them to actually read anything.  The individuals most important to me, whose love courses through my veins and galvanizes my existence, could not be bothered to lay their eyes on my words.  It is incredibly disheartening, especially now that my biggest fan is gone, but it is perhaps karma and the retribution of the universe for being so adverse to sharing for so long.

In any case, there are few who will read this.  Still, perhaps I just need a small corner of the internet to vomit up all these thoughts and feelings that cloud and clutter the deep recesses of my mind.  Liquid petroleum hydrocarbon is not known to wash off easily.

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Why am I doing this?