Wiggle

25.07.2015 1800hrs

How to begin? I don’t know where or how to start. I haven’t really written anything in over a year, aside from lists, emails, and countless chat messages. My mind I think, has become much too accustomed to short exchanges, attention span and thought organization greatly diminished. The wires in my brain seem to have been snipped short at some point, and I am grasping the ends and trying to tie them together in an attempt to knit paragraphs together.

Sometimes I tell myself I need a new laptop to write with. My Stella cannot connect to the Internet, tapping Celine’s screen doesn’t give the whole experience, and the thought of using good old pen and paper does not entice me. I know. I have far too many excuses. But every once in a while, at least once a year, I cannot help just doing it.

I am not writing about anything really. I’m merely trying to jolt my writing muscles out of deep cryogenic coma. Piecing words together, one after the other. It’s like the equivalent of willing a toe to wiggle.

At this point, I may have to apologize to whoever chanced upon this. It’s a rather selfish exercise, and you certainly are right in thinking that there is nothing to be gained here. But my, look at that, four paragraphs. There is yet hope! May I then be so bold as to ask you, dear reader, not to completely strike this page off your reading list. Maybe next time, there’d be better reason for you to waste your time here with me.

Tschüs!

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