At this point, I'm only continuing to write this simply because I promised myself I would, and for ONCE in my life, I NEED to finish something. I'm too tired to care, at the moment, I have nothing of interest to write about, because my entire life is consumed with moving and thinking about moving, and I've already written about that about six times.
I'm stuck, I'm annoyed, and I'm doing it for the sake of doing it. I'M certainly not interested.
But, as I mentioned before, the point of doing this was the journey, and that I needed to finish something, not the actual progress of doing it. I discovered another outlet for writing, and as soon as I get it up and running, I'm going to make that the haven of my daily writing ritual. But until I'm settled in my new home, there isn't much I can do except continue to write here and hope that I can fill a few paragraphs, stay conscious, and keep my promises.
I'm holding on for dear life, but I'm holding on. Only a few more days of pointless drivel...
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