One of the many things of which I am disappointed with myself is the fact that it is very possible that my beautiful daughter will graduate high school before I have published anything. There are worse things, I know. Since the calling (7 years ago) I have written very little. A couple of short stories, one novella, and the beginnings of what I believe will be a break-out novel, but alas, I procrastinate. I also feel burdened and tortured by what I've experienced and what I think I know. I've been on short-term disability for depression, OCD (I get 60% of my normal pay) for about 5 weeks now, am barely making it financially (I may even have to move to a less expensive apartment). So yeah, I have the time, but it is not very constructive, while I worry about all the non-sensible things that happened in my life, and the everyday battles that are akin to every other persons problems.
It's like I'm afraid to write, although I know I do it well. I feel time is slipping away from me. The more I wait, the harder it is to start. Damn it!!!!
Just another day.