Sometimes there are words here

Each day I tell myself I need to write, I need to chronicle, I need to express..... and each day passes and nothing occurs. I wondered when I started this if I'd do much blogging. I'm not much of a talker and can easily enjoy slip into the "lone-ness" of solitude. Note, not the "loneliness" of solitude, but the willful moving into it. I know people that cannot stand to be alone. They fear it for some reason. They need the companionship of others, they need to talk (even if it is about nothing at all) just to break the silence.

I don't think I've ever been lonely in my solitude. I take that back, there was a period in my late teens when I was wrestling with demons, when loneliness would consume me like a fog at times. But through that I discovered the joy that can be present.

Loneliness is different though, you can feel lonely in a room full of people. I'll often sit off to the side in a room full of people. I'm not necessarily an introvert. I'll introduce myself, talk, ask questions etc. But I don't need to talk. I'm comfortable sitting there listening, or listening to the ever playing loops in my mind. Does that make me odd?

In solitude where we are least alone - Lord Byron

So I wonder if that carries through to my attempts at blogging? By the fact that I am quiet by nature, I just can't seem to type the words from the loops that play. I don't know if I'm looking for an answer, or just writing to allow this to roll around outside for a little. Writing becomes a habit and I just haven't developed it other than in fits and bursts. I have started many journals only to have them slip into oblivion. I will find an attempt and read it and tell myself. "I need to do this more" and then days and weeks have again slipped by.

Ah well, the day calls and there are tasks at hand.