Didn't have a single thought yesterday. Tiredness was to blame from a Friday night staying up till nearly one am. discussing the fact that I am a writer but I'm trapped in the body of someone  who cant write, someone who failed English and thinks everyone else he knows  speaks more eloquently. I would go so far as to say my friends would do better jobs of blogging or whatever but just aren't interested in doing it. It's like, if I were a better artist than someone else and that person wanted to be a proper artist proffesionally, then it would be annoying to them cos the talent is wasted on me. Truth is I  also failed art so they would have to be 'shit' to be worse than me. 
But I will continue to write because it's therapeutic and relaxing for me. My wife is much better at choosing the right words or giving a definition of a word, but she says that she is a 'reader' and has no interest for the writing part. I've written a diary since I was 11 , that's near enough 25 years of diary writing as well as the other books I keep adding to over time. So for someone who isn't great at writing, does that show commitment to the cause, or inability to admit that it's not well written. 
What will happen to all this writing when I die. 
I'm told it will be burnt... Yet I still must do it, for some reason I have to do it.