I’m trying to write something.
I wrote a paragraph. Actually I wrote one and half paragraphs.
But they were less than perfect so I am abandoning them.
I tried to set myself a project.
A reason to regularly return to my blog.
I thought I’d write a thought for Thursday.
Every Thursday from now until the end of the year.
But then I didn’t have any thoughts.
Because I am a vacuous silly woman refusing to use a comma between those descriptive words those adjectives.
But actually I had lots of thoughts.
And I just couldn’t settle on one that seemed worthwhile.
Because I so desperately want to be worthwhile myself and I don’t always believe that I am.
Number one thought was mediocre.
Well, the thought itself was old news.
Its my biggest fear. That I will never be anything more than mediocre.
Thought number two was
Write about Fomo. The Fear of Missing Out.
I couldn’t decide which thought was better. Or were they maybe the same thought.
If they were two thoughts
Then I would have to decide which
I would write about, which was better and I couldn’t.
What if I made the wrong choice
And the thought that I wrote about was the wrong one.
What if the other one would have been better, would have been inspiring
And all I’d done was ramble on in some less than perfect way,
In some less than perfect paragraph
Or paragraph and a half
About my fear of
Mediocrity.
This is not a half baked poem.
It is a prose piece
Which is desperately trying to be something else.
