I wrote zero words this week. My desire to write is just all messed up. It isn't based on a story I have in my head or even characters I have in my head... My strong desire to write is motivated by vague feelings and flashes of images. I attempt to write stories in which I can put these images and vague feelings. And it's not working.

So I want to accomplish B because of this A that I want to share with others and also expand for myself. But A just doesn't lead even remotely to accomplishing B and I've failed for so long at B that I'm kind of willing to forget all about A and do whatever it takes to just accomplish B now.

But A was the whole reason to bother in the first place. And the possibility of forgetting about A while still continuing to try to write, simply because I don't like to give up at things... is both humorous to me and also something I should try to avoid I guess. I'm thinking I need to learn to daydream about things with maybe little to no relation to A but then ultimately still have A in there. Possibly this A will end up being just a meaningless thing thrown in. Hopefully not.

My earlier years were a very intense struggle to survive. I invented (somewhat subconsciously) a malevolent god that wanted me dead that I continued to survive simply to spite. That's the best reason I could come up with to continue living. And in such a state I went for 15 to 20 or so years.

There are feelings/images from that time I don't want to lose. It's all terribly, pitifully vague. Writing is possibly really not the best medium. Painting would make more sense I guess. Except when it's other artists I far prefer books to paintings. But no painter has really come even close to what I guess I would want to paint. And certainly no writer has either. So what I like from others has maybe little relevance.

But I just don't care for painting. So much work and it gets a uncomprehending glance if that. So, onward.