Looking for a...

I haven't been writing much this week. I just felt so burned-out from confronting my feelings, opening up about them, editing and then rereading until I am satisfied, it is worth sharing. It is worth sharing. But why share? Why do I feel the need to be heard, when I also feel that my fluctuating tide of life-satisfaction is not worth mentioning.

You should know that, before anything makes it out there, dear reader, I have already spend days, possibly weeks or months, mulling over certain thoughts, trying out the different ways they could be expressed in my head, as if I were studying lines for a play. The lines I then remember, and the play is performed once I take to the page. Writing becomes rehearsing. Sometimes the director in me goes a little overboard and changes everything again, and the writer in me struggles to adapt to the change. I don't even know if that makes sense.

Sometimes, I feel like the world isn't out there for me. I have so many changes to make, before I make it out there.