post #19 (aka, the annoying writer self-doubt post of the quarter)

My brain is empty.
I thoroughly believe there is nothing left in there.
The words I use are tired and worthless;
why do I keep writing?
I don't know.
I don't know why I feel so discouraged.
I feel like what I write isn't good enough.
But does it really need to be?
Whose standard am I looking to please?
I don't even know the answer to that.
I'm just tired.
I rush through everything with reckless abandon,
and it is nothing.
Everything is nothing.
I'm saying nothing, even now.
I should just stop.