Why do I type when I'm sleepy?

Ever since I began this "blogging", I used it as a sort of open journal. At moments where I had trouble coping with my desires & frustrations, I turned to my blog and just unloaded a fusillade of emotions into the words. The many ricochets and divots etch a sort of permanence to my pains. It also gave me the ability to look back and see how well or how poorly I handled my emotion. It helped me see what I was in order to help me guide myself into being what I wanted to be. I think that sort of reflection is beautiful.

Some of it was in a joking fashion but I really don't do that too well. I'm constantly joking but people really have a hard time knowing that. My anger...idk...there's no permanence to it. Sometimes I need to dig deep to even be capable of expressing it. I spend very little time angry. I spend very little time sad. I spend most of my time confused. Not trying to define how I feel and really just sort of soldier through it. But I also don't invest much in these random moments where I express my thoughts. People put far too much importance into meaningless words. 

With all of this, I haven't felt the need to cry through my keyboard since a few weeks after the break up. I've tried to use inspiration and it has helped me to type a bit. Unfortunately, I've been developing a bad habit of wanting to type while I'm exhausted and my eyes are closing. I've fallen asleep typing up each of my last few posts over the last few months. I get warm and distant and just fade to silence and peace.

In the last month since I've added followers to my twitter(Approximately 80), I've gotten a slightly different bit of traffic. A bit more interest from people who haven't quite yet normalized to me. That's cool. It makes me want to refine my online presence and keep interests churning. I do not think I have the energy for that. I like my informal ways...and I know I'd prefer the more visitors and the greater interests yet this ego keeps comforting me; telling me everything that I love hearing. That just tells me that my youth is still overloading my ass and I haven't grown enough to move forward in life despite how much I yearn to move forward.

I refuse to ruminate on the issues. I pledge to keep the forward motion. What else can I do? I can't change the reality by lying. The truth is that I am where I am and that's it. All of my plans and all my past mean nothing to people who judge you on simple truths. Cool. And while they listening to the red flag warning of a stereotype I've become, I'm making plans to insure my future is a tremendous success. I leave the skepticism and doubt to those who need religion to understand faith. I don't nor did I.

Even with this anesthetized approach to writing, I feel like I'm making progress and going through the stages. Judge me...who cares...we all live different lives. Maybe your judgment is what it takes to make me realize that I ain't worth anything to anyone until I move on. LOL. One's trash is always another's treasure. Always. A few do treasure me and it's odd but encouraging. It is nurturing. I appreciate those people the most. Critical people can block themselves. I really couldn't care less. You rock with me or don't...I ain't missing any beats without you. All in all, it's all love.