Even saints fall prey to the green eyed beautiful monster and I am not a saint.
I feel jealous of people who can express what is going on in their mind.
When you read them, you feel what they wanted you to feel. They succeed in making you smile, shed tears and sometimes feel embarrassed because they laid their soul bare and you intruded upon that space, sacred or otherwise.
What I only have is this disjointed thoughts which I desperately try to connect. I fail mostly because there are no sequential numbers to guide me.
But as my wise son said once you need to write every single day,even if it is just a sentence.