Almost everyday I ask myself if I can write.

Can you write today?

Can you write today?

Today can you write?

Will you write today?

I think about something. I think about writing about it. Then I think that it’s not strong enough and is going to end up in my drafts folder. I don’t want that. Sometimes things happen that anger or frustrate me. I want to write about them. I don’t. My blog was never meant for endless rants and ramblings. They won’t be polished enough to publish and I’m too tired to write them well. It would be better to just put them in my journal. That doesn’t really work either because of how tired I am.

This morning I woke up slowly. It was not the usual trip where I resist getting up and then reprove myself. I got up without any kind of talk going on in my head. I thought about what I would wear, went to take a shower and got dressed. I didn’t even get upset when the hot water ran out in two minutes. I let it pass and continued my shower. I thought about putting on some make-up, but ended up leaving it alone. I knew it wouldn’t make me feel better like it did yesterday. Today was different.

I suppose that’s why I am writing. Today is different.

What I am feeling now is the aftermath of an exchange that occurred before I went to sleep last night. I was perplexed over the effect it had on me – how it had suddenly brought my spirits down when they had been elevated the entire day. This morning that feeling remains. I am once again perplexed that the effect lasted through seven and a half hours of sleep and the two hours it took me to get ready for and travel to work.

I never understand these things. I never understand how small exchanges can make such a strong impact on me.

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