This is too daunting to tackle--everyone is doing it. I can't get my head around it.
I don't have a stream of conciousness.
I don't have a witty anecdote.
I don't have a desire to connect or to alleviate suffering by sharing.
Or a penchant for observation. Or insight.
None of it. An element of blank.
I have pretension (where there should be humility). And judgement (where there might have been forgiveness). Sleep deprivation (which is a much better rush than simple fatigue).
And years of wanting to tell it all slantways--that have culminated in a fond wish to not.
I really do think I'll just start posting my poetry from high school.