i want to write something right now and i am not confident enough for fiction. so i am writing about my lack of confidence when it comes to writing fiction.

today has been a tired day. even the morning. i havent slept enough. the weather also isnt very conducive to wakefulness. but thats okay. i took a nap and im still pretty tired. but thats okay. i dont need to be wide awake to do what i want to do.

what i want to do has changed many times over the course of the day because i soon did it which made the desire obsolete. what i want to do now is write. preferably fiction, but i cannot write fiction because i say so. i could actually do it but i do not let myself because i pretend i cannot do it. this is because i fear it will be bad or a waste of time because the last few attempts at anything bigger than a one-off story have all failed from dead end syndome. i have a talent for writing myself into dead ends. i want to write ethereal, mildly philosophical, but also subtly fucked up stories, but it appears after fucking it up the first time i have completely unlearned every single skill involved in it. the setting is essentially dead and i keep punching it in hopes that it might just magically come back to life. i really want to write something in that setting, but that setting is pointless and i have nothing to say about it. there is no potential for any sort of interesting plot. i accidentally made the setting that i wrote to be as bland-seeming as possible, so bland that i have nothing to write about it anymore, because i cannot come up with any inner complexity that doesnt feel tacked-on.

that is one more compromise i wont be making. if i cannot make the setting work i need to do the opposite. itll be generic as fuck but oh well what can i do. some kind of post-apocalypse rot shit, aka the most generic bs i could be writing. but alas i am going to be doing that to write anything at all. maybe one day i can reassemble the soul of the first setting.

but i dont want to do that. i just cannot let myself abandon it, and neither can i make myself write something i consider generic. i must do better but i do not want to must do better. i want to do whatever, not better, worse. i dont need to make a difference, just make anything at all. and yet it doesnt work.

until i find a resolution, this will keep spinning. infinite cycles of trying to convince myself to do one or the other, a futile fight of two dull spoons, the only product despair.

there is no ending. there is only an indefinite pause, decision pending, deferral until never. the only way out is the sledgehammer, and i cannot lift it.