my nonsense existence

That's a whole lot of something I forgot where I was going and that is one bad sign. Writing on the computer is so much more difficult than on paper. It's less transcendent in a modern sense and more in the tactile element of putting letters together to form a concept and not just flashes of one's sentient-animal being.

I must say, every day I have tried to write anything I find it more not good. I have in an odd way grown in my ability to speak and that development of language is reflecting itself in my writing as I try to feel comfortable in this skin.

I have a story partially written that starts with these lines, I like them

“The room smelled like puss, stale piss, and bandages. The only light was an old T.V. flickering on a milk crate (something about tampons and out of business rug stores). A shaky box fan brought sanity into there but it only muffled death’s footsteps a little.”
The rest is written on a scrathpad somewhere in the world. It's not a very happy story. I use to get tired of all the depressed tales I read. I remember challenging a friend to write positive poetry. For some reason, I forgot to listen to mine own advice of yore.