there was something that i wanted to share, so i decided to write it here. there was something that i felt i was missing. but then, wandering as i do. being something i was not. somehow i had the idea, to write, to think that i could write. i am not sure what i am attempting to do really.


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6:43 PM 8/18/2019

as far as i know, there are many different ways that today could go about its many faces.

what would i do here,when i could be somewhere else, thinking? what else would i do, when i feel as if i know not what i could do.

not knowing what to do, is a problem i face every now and then. there are some ways i get over it. i just have to do something, sometimes its good to take a nap.

without know what is in store, i just go about my usual pressing of the buttons. and when i was able, perhaps a story would form. but that is just the hope at least.

there are many different ways that we could all be where we need to be, but where would that be? how would we get there, there are many questions that i am thinking of but yet, where are the answers?

would i even need an answer to the question, if the question was what i wanted in the first place. there are many different places though, so who knows?

there are the pages here, and that i am sure of.

When I could there would be many different words, these words, I would call my collection. That is part of what I do every day. I add to the collection of words that I am building. I have many different ways to collect words.

When I could, I would be able to think of the different ways that would allow me to continue on in this conversation. But until then, I feel I would have to talk to something else.

Is there really what seems to be that which I see?

Perhaps. But what of the life that I had before?

Well that was back then and this is now.

Ok then.

Sometimes, when I am able, I can talk like I am speaking In my mind. I am not sure if anyone really hears though.

Other times I can simply think in peace. Just wondering about, one thought to the next, sometimes it feels as if I could think of anything. Other times, I feel I think about the same things over again as if on repeat.

There are many different ways to say the same thing, but would you be able to know which was what?

The ideas here are many but what is it that they mean? I plan on finding out, one way or another, but what of this is what I am really doing? What is it that I am doing? How would I ever be able to do this.

But then, why would I not be able to do this in the first place?

title for words

as the words that i write. i wonder what it means to be able to write here. and there.  and where ever it is that i am going. then wonder is that i need help looking for good places to rest. sometimes it is thoughts that matter the most. as they who are what i wanted the lines here. they are what it is that i am doing here. and the words that i am writing. there are no others like it. the lines here. i like to think are unique. and i am starting to see the value of such writing as this. as far as i know that is.

and that is just one part of many that i am going to be always fiddling with. as i write this and that. as i write phrase after phrase. i can only guess as to where this is going to go. and who would see it. it is part of test i am doing about blogging and seo. but that is a different story that i am able to work on as well as this. as that is part of what it needed to see in order to help with the thoughts and problems that are associated with the. as far as i know. this stuff really does work. it just takes a long time in some cases.

i do not think that you should stop writing even if someone else goes through the trouble to say this insult.

How else could?

These be real words. Just shells of meaning. Just trying to trick myself into writing a book. Word. By word. Thinking here. Just maybe. Perhaps. Perhaps this is not a waste of time. I guess it would depend on how one used such works as this.

same words different stories.

The part of me that goes. The part of my life that grows with each word. There are only so many chances for this to work and I am hoping that this is not only the best, not even close. As far as I know. There is nothing else but the dream and work that I would be able to complete. As that is all that matters in the is moment. The working and pushing of these buttons. As I know not what else to do, but what I do best.

There are some worries that I have here. And there are somethings that I am worried about. But not too much, not what I wanted. And yet here I am doing exactly that. What is it. Not that it is gibber, but that it is part of its own world. My world. The indie worlds of swazdankus weirdlands.

But that is just a place in my mind. There are only there are ways that I can like, so genius.

Yet this gibberish. This was what I was doing for what I wanted was something else.

But this. I swear, that this works. And it is not for lost at all. There are no losing teams here. And it all just takes a bit of time, but that you would get there. That is what I sell. Gold dust of the dreams where we are all able to be here. And it is a happy place. But still the worlds not as same as it is here, every where.

How else would I be here, if it were not for these words and writing. Not only my writing. But all of our writing. It means a great amount. That there are the writers who wrote, and they who continue to write even to this day. It means so much to those if you just take the time to listen. And that is part of what I hope to be able to do.

The words there are only so many of them. And I hope that such can continue in a friendly manner.

As if the best blogs for poetry. no. I want to have the best blogs for writing.

As if that could happen. But who knows. What is in store might change a lot of different things. As far as I know. There can only be so many words. I wonder if my theories are true. But yet I have been able to explain them well.

without it there would be the thoughts.

and yet here walls are built the times that is not like the words there and the wonders of the lines here or there. adn the kinds of insults. why would they be mean. how else would it happen. but there are sometimes that would be the lines of the wonders. and like the rest there is only so many different things that can be talked about.



the titles are changing. sometimes.

When I was able to I wanted to wonder what it was that was happening. And other times. Not always. Something would happen. And yet. I would not know what it was that I was doing. And here I am. Doing that which I do not fully understand.

There are seven different kinds. But only sometimes. There are not really meaning there. But simply the placement of words. And that is pretty neat. There being only so much that can be written. But a lot of it could be reused. Through the whatever methods you choose to inspire you to write down the words. What ever they be.