I think I’ve figured it out. The reason why so many people are rebloggers more than they are bloggers. They lack inspiration, the same way I do this morning. Hence my inclination to reblog so many things, although my restraint has been keeping me in check. So, like the rebloggers, I’m tempted to borrow inspiration as if I’m licensed to be a curator of what may inspire others, all the while parading my reblogs as my inspiration to share with the world.
I’m feeling somewhat deflated, I found myself trawling some of the tags that I follow in the hope of finding something that may be worth sharing. It was partly due to a need to want to share something meaningful, as well as wanting to fill that gaping void on my dashboard that taunts me if I don’t bleed out some thoughts at least once every other day.
But I’m tired. Too tired to note all the beauty in the insanity around me, apart from the way the sun shone through the leafless tree this morning while the clouds literally raced across a crystal clear blue sky. The icy winds drove me to retract into a self-embrace trying to fight off the cold, while sitting at the entrance to the smoker’s balcony at work provides me with regular gusts of ice cold misery each time some nihilist steps out to rape a cigarette.
I feel obligated to write out these rambling posts while I rarely read. That feels somewhat hypocritical. I have barely enough attention span to read through the dosage directions of aspirin these days.
Nothing like the sound of a massive diesel generator grunting in the background to support my efforts to procrastinate on Tumblr during yet another unplanned power outage in this miserably cold part of Johannesburg today. This is the kind of post that gets deleted the morning after the night before. I keep wondering when is someone going to notice that the venom that I spit in my posts is actually a reflection of my own self-image?