Titles are still Superfluous

I told another person the truth. She took it well. That's exciting. Her name is festive in nature, though with a different spelling. I find her compelling.

I helped my sister move over the break. It was a working vacation, though obviously from my lack of posting, I didn't get anything academic done.

I'm still afraid of loneliness.

I hate being questioned. Why is that?

Aiden has fallen off the map. Or is it off the page? I'm not sure where I see him going. I want him out of the park. He want's out of the park. That damn park. It's so dark, dreary, mysterious, haunting, terrible. Holy crap it's a metaphor.

I want to write more.

This is the start of that.

I feel like a bad student for fiction. I should have written more. I apologize. Though I think I owe the apology more to myself than others as it's me that's mostly affected. I delve into self-pity. I won't do that here, but I will say, to myself, that I'm sorry for not living up to your standards, but I need to give myself a break. If you want to write more, write more. Just do it. It's not that hard. The act of actually writing is not that difficult, being creative, being authentic, being true- that's hard.