The thing is I want to write about a problem child, finding their way, but I cannot because I cannot seem to resolve my own problems, and it seems foolish trying to write about something beyond my field.. But still, that isn't the only reason why I cannot write. I simply cannot write because even when the lesson is learned, it doesn't end there and there still is lessons to keep on learning, so I ask myself: what is the point? I mean what is the point in trying to be all touchy, when nothing really matters? Why must I live in the moment, when all I can fear is the unknown and when I am nostalgic? Why must I listen to others when I cannot trust them? Why must I become so close to someone, or something? Why must I be so terrible, and awful? Why must I be so fucking worthless? Why is there so much wrong with me, but at the same time there couldn't be? Why is everything so confusing? Why is everything so difficult?
That is why I cannot write anything, because with knowing the irrelevance, and the questions I have, how can I?
