An Annoyance That Shouldn’t Exist

Why is it that some days I feel like I need to write? Like it’s my duty to upload a new post here to my blog. It’s so annoying and so absurd. I don’t know why I feel this "push". In all reality, nobody is pushing me to do it...except for maybe myself? I torture myself with it for absolutely no reason. Does anyone else ever feel like this or am I just some freak of nature?

With so many other things going on in my life and so little time to take care of them all, blogging should be on the bottom of my priority list. And it is, except for the fact I still feel like I SHOULD be writing something. It’s an annoyance that shouldn’t exist, but yet it does. Perhaps a big part of the problem is that I pretty much hate everything I write. I get all anal about it. I analize it. I pick it apart. I reword it. I rewrite it. I erase it. And then I do it all over again. It’s like a mild form of OCD. I think I try to be a perfectionist, but I have much that needs perfecting. It’s a vicious cycle really.

I’m driving myself insane by it. I search for flow and I ride it when it chooses to arrive. Although, it’s never consistent. It’s never perfect. It comes and goes in waves. I suppose that is what flow is all about and it’s not meant to be captured for very long. It’s intangible and if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t really be that powerful. You wouldn’t ever hear of someone writing in a fever. You wouldn’t ever hear of someone being so caught up in their words that they lose all track of time. It’s good that flow isn’t always readily available. It makes you appreciate and cherish it that much more when it does wash in.

I can’t even tell you how many posts I have left in Blogger draft. Most are painful little pieces that I’m uncertain if I can bring myself to complete. I don’t even know where to begin or how to allow it to end. I’ll just keep writing and getting lost among the senseless lines until my eyes are a blur and my hand begins to cramp. I’ll become numb, or emotionally drained, or both. I’ll start second guessing myself and debating on whether or not I should have ever strung all those words together. I’ll finally regret that I’ve given my story a voice. That’s around the time I silence it. I’ll stop writing and leave it lying dormant. It’s a power struggle like no other. The rest will be left unwritten, but the inner push to write will continue on.