Yet another failure. It would be tiresome if it didn’t feel like a skill. All I can do is keep going at it. That is all we can do. Just show up and hope the right people notice.
I’ve been doing well all things considered. I am proud of my actions. They felt necessary and this is my sole source of guidance. The compulsion tells a story I must attend to.
There is no motive however. A fledgling drive fades in and out, marshaling conviction for a heartbeat. An email, a few hours of development, and then gone again.
The flutter of a curious bird unable to find a perch. I am able to share my thoughts, no matter how inane. It is a small comfort but I am grateful for the willing listener. It does help.