Ever get that hamster caught in a wheel, feeling? I have that today. I have a very unhappy uneasy mood today when technically nothing is wrong, nothing is really missing I just feel so…I dunno…

Like I’m chasing my tail.

I take a deep breath and release it.

I feel like I should be anxious but I don’t know what about.

Shall I invent something?

No.

I think my problem is that I have not been feeling very attractive lately. You might say well that’s an easy fix just work out or eat better or get more rest and stop drinking and smoking so much and use a whitening toothpaste like you used to.

Sheesh.

That’s a lot of hamsterish type shit , no?

Maybe I’m tired of all that and I kinda wanna be somewhere some place with someone who doesn’t care if I don’t feel like combing my hair.

Am I inventing something?

Perhaps.

I probably only get like this when I gain weight. I feel over exposed when I am heavier, like everyone is staring at me. So I have a choice i can go to the market and start eating just fruits and veggies again but then I am spending 2 extra hours a day preparing food, and when I do that I think I could be working on my next chapter instead of dicing up these damn onions.

Then I’m pissed at myself all over.

If I get up at 5 AM to work out the entire time I am doing sit ups I am thinking, have I added anything to the blog today?

Do I have to be beautiful to be a great writer?

Is skinny a prerequisite?

No.

But I don’t feel good.

I don’t need anything really but I’m uncomfortable in my own skin.

What is the reason?

Is the reason I feel this way because I feel guilty because I have not been taking very good care of myself and it really should be a priority and I hate that it isn’t?

Or is the reason I feel this way because I think I should be able to write professionally from home but some how a chicken snuck in and I will use any excuse to not actually work on what I really love because I am afraid to fail?

I think I invented something.

A reason.

Two in fact.

Damn.

And then I think, someone somewhere is hungry.

Someone is dying, being raped, being neglected.

And you are whining because you lack serotonin.

Three reasons.

Shit.

I cannot save the world.

I cannot make excuses for my health it is all I have and I would not be able to write if I am dead.

There is no timetable on art- so if it never makes you any bread do you really care? Isn’t the purpose of doing it to share?

Around, around, around I go

Fighting myself in my own head.

Smile on my cheek.

Explosion in my brain.

Please, if there is a god, don’t let anyone notice.