pity party

i find myself frustrated by how dependent writing is on my state of mind. my mind is turbulent, paranoid, unsettled, overly analytic, often strange, questions everything and trusts nothing...and thus sometimes unproductive. effectively off.
i aspire to diligence. to be a writer one must write. always. everyday. and i want to. write. love words. but i spend the majority of too many days with finger on backspace eradicating as fast as i spew words lacking connectivity, lacking depth. i like playing with words, but what do i say? what is closest to my heart is hardest to write, to utter...i wear the warriorwoman face to deal with the world but my written word is naked.
i fear the solidification of my unkempt thoughts and what they reveal of my soft places...


walk good.