Pulling Teeth. Like dropping words in a bucket.

So many people for so long have been writing so mahy words and ideas, sometimes I wonder if mine are even that important to be heard over the calamity of all the others.  There’s times when I lay in my bed and wonder if there’s even a point to me putting my shit out there in the market.  Would anyone care to read it?  Isn’t there enough out there?  Am I original enough to get my point across?  Or, am I the only one who would care to hear what I have to say.

If words were drops of water, I think there’d probably be enough floating around out there to fill the Grand Canyon.  Or even an ocean.  I don’t know.  It’s daunting.  I’m not going up against anyone, it’s being a part of a community, but still there’s nothing more than I’d like to do some days than lie in my bed and hang the whole thing up.

I wish there were more people in my area that had the same interests, maybe I wouldn’t be getting these lost feelings.  I dunno.  I suppose I log on and find a bunch of people with the same ideas, but it’s not the same.  I sign out and I’m all alonsie again.  Yeah, I’ll cut this emo bullshit now.

Maybe this is me giving myself a proverbial pep talk.  I had to wrestle my laptop away from my room mate just cause I felt like writing something.  Now I got down some words and I get this creeping insanity coming up behind me.  I can’t shake the shit.

I dunno.  Does every writer have a monkey like this riding their back?  Is this common place?  This insecurity?  Or am I just projecting all my self doubt into this one endeavor?

I suppose it has yet to be seen.