So, how hard is it to simply jot down one's thoughts for anyone passing by to see?
Well, very difficult for those like myself.
Especially now, in this world which has seen us look to each other in ways not previously imagined. A friend's slightly odd world view may well have been a minor curiosity previously, whereas now we see it as a culpable disregard for the welfare of other humans, other people on this odd, unplanned, seemingly illogical journey called life. We see selfishness not as a personal failing but as a symptom of a greater failing. A failing that lies at the heart of our very existence. And perhaps, we see that in ourselves as well. But we are already tired and close enough to defeat to take on the burden of fixing our own, animal souls. So we carry on, trying to wake each day with at least a small spark of life to sustain us. And we create, don't we? at least that is the coping mechanism for many. It should really be a coping mechanism for all of us, but it is a fragile thing and many have already had that jewel of their soul taken away from them.
This is the kind of thinking that will doom me. Therein lies the irony.
Doomed if you do, doomed if you don't.
So, I write stories and bad poetry.
Because I still don't know the rules.