I think the problem with me trying to write something at this time, is that inside I just don't want to share anything.

I don't have a photo to share, either. I looked. There's nothing I want to give from me out there to anyone.

I wonder if my post below hit some kind nerve. Like people just feel its petty and could have lived just fine without me expressing my anger.

I call this non-fiction writing. I try hard in fact to make it entertaining even as I babble on endlessly. One aspect of this kind of writing is how difficult it is to find a satisfactory end. Take my word for it, as I have a bona fide degree in English, and I had actual professors tell me this important fact.

So you think...and you think...what would be a good ending.

That would be if I had the energy or determination to care.

So I'm going to hear about my cycles and how its ok to be depressed. Yup. Sometimes you just breathe, if you aren't forced to speak to make someone else happy.

I haven't done anything wrong. I don't feel guilty. I don't have anything to say.

In an effort to not be selfish, because I have a blog I check occasionally and the person hasn't written since March 2 without explanation, Honey that is SELFISH, I promise I will come back in full Tart form, not giving a care to what people think about me and what I put in here and it will be all good.