I think it possible that the days when I’ve done nothing lead to the nights when I resent having to type one of these posts the most. It is hard to create something out of nothing and I don’t want to be bothered with trying. I would much rather curl up in bed with the remainder of my second book of the day until I’m able to fall asleep.

Yet, I keep making myself do this. Even when I resist, I make myself open up my computer, log on to this site, and start typing. I’m not sure why. I’m not sure to what purpose.

There is nothing in particular that I wish to say tonight. Nothing that I want to share. Not even with myself. I am well-defended tonight. Perhaps even against my own truths. I know only that I don’t want to dwell too much here, spend too much time wandering about inside myself. I want to sleep and dream and wake up to a different day tomorrow.