I can take everything back, and nothing changes.
All these goals, and no present travel.
Is this the definition of stuck?
My future a constant hemorrhage.
My time a consistent misfortune.
I like many other Thinkers suffer from the Midnight Disease.
”Hypergraphia: The driving compulsion to write; the overwhelming urge to write. Hypergraphia may compel someone to keep a voluminous journal, to jot off frequent letters to the editor, to write on toilet paper if nothing else is available, and perhaps even to compile a dictionary. Hypergraphia is the opposite of writer’s block.”—
Not necessarily confined, but without current motion is my ability to have Hypergraphia.
I’ve been keeping Journals/Diarys/Short Stories/Secrets from childhood, and I have papers with writing/numbers/theories above normal volume.
I think my fear of EST kept me filling the pages.
I never wrote on toilet paper, but I have communicated on a few bar napkins.
What does all this make me?
A literary zombie?
A word hoarder?
The explanation might be available in the new Journal I purchased titled
”Wreck This Journal” by Keri Smith.
Obsessive recording can lead to terminal vacancy.