Sorry . . .

At first, I thought I’d write this to apologize for being soooooo buuuusssssssyyyy that I wasn’t able to post anything in a while but y’all are too smart for that and I wont condescend to you.  The truth is I suck at time management, I’m lazy, and I keep psyching myself out by convincing myself that I don’t have anything worth writing about. The fallacy with the last statement is that I started this blog for myself, and while I’d love more followers and more hits — that’s not why I write.  I write because it’s the one thing I am sure I’m good at.

I’m not the best and I know I would benefit from writing regularly and disciplining myself but when I do finally make myself type or scribble in a notebook during my commute, I feel at home.  And even when I performed this piece on religion at my second open mic in late September and ugly-cried in front of a room full of strangers, I wasn’t scared of judgment — I was relieved.  It wasn’t until I got up on that stage and said the words aloud to myself did I realize how much that poem meant to me.  It meant enough to me to share with a bunch of people and to know and really feel that I was connecting with them.  And the last verse of the poem, that writing is my religion and salvation, really is true.  So I owe it to myself to practice and come home more often.

All this to say, I pledge to myself to starting posting weekly.  Even if it’s just a picture I like with a small caption or another rambling, incoherent mess like this — I will post something.  Also, yes, I know I need to post excerpts from the story which I will also start doing ASAP — look out for those posts on Fridays.  Thanks for reading.


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