The words we use sometimes are misconstrued.

Today I read a new blog (new to me) that made me want to write again because his writing is so goddamn good. I take this as a good sign, that good writing generally inspires me to write rather than showing me that I will never, ever be as good.

But then I look back at that last paragraph, and I used the word “good” four times. And then I realize that it’s not even a paragraph, it’s a sentence. One sentence. Four times.

I can’t write anymore, y’all. Maybe it’s a phase. I can’t even write about how I can’t write. I’m not blocked. I’m just nothing. Not a writer. Never was.

Also, there’s all those mistakes I don’t want to repeat.

NYEG and I decided not to move in together. He’s never lived with someone he was romantically involved with before, and I didn’t know if he was fully aware of what he was getting himself into, so I came to him to have the “but what about this?” conversation. There were a lot of “this”es.

At the end of it, I was pretty sure I’d freaked him out. He swore he wasn’t freaked out (pretty sure he was), but if I had doubts, then maybe we should just wait a little while to take that step. I told him I don’t have doubts, but I wasn’t sure that he didn’t. These words we were saying didn’t make sense to each other, so we dropped the conversation, and every once in a while now he jokes about how he won’t let me move in with him.

I’m trying to get him to sing/play a duet with me. He seemed open to it at first, but now I’m not so sure. I learned my part, anyway.