Interstitial

Here lie the bodies of blog posts half-written and unwritten. Some died in a drafts folder—killed by fear, perfectionism, and the kinds of comparisons that therapists warn you not to make. Some were crushed by the weight of expectation (perceived and real). Some spent but a short time on earth—as fleeting moments of inspiration found on Bernal Hill or sticky thoughts attempting the seduction of a brain attempting to meditate or one-liners quickly used and exhausted in a conversation over dinner. Some are still trapped in the long passageway between narcissism and insight. Some never existed but insist they might have, if only the nature of time had been different.

May they rest in peace. All of them. 

May acknowledging their existence (or lack thereof) make room for blog posts to come.

Continuity be damned.