I've done a lot of experiments in the past, as you know. The confidence thing failed, just so you know. I write a lot of things when I'm a little bit high, and most of them make about as much sense as putting fertility drugs into the water supply. One of the features of my malleable personality is that my writing style can vary quite a lot. It may not seem that way when you read the posts on this blog, but I've got a tonne of thoughts and the like that prove otherwise. Well, onto the point. What I've been thinking of lately is whether my little niggling anxieties about whether I should write or say something or not are holding me back from performing to the best of my ability. Of course the real reason I am not exactly en par with my former self, years ago, before this blog, is probably because the antipsychotics I'm on are stifling my creativity. But IF, a big if, IF it turns out that not saying or writing everything that goes on in my mind actually is somewhat hurting my chances of acting successfully like a real person, then it stands to reason that I should cut those little fears out and do whatever the hell I want.
Not that that means I have any more content for this blog, I'm afraid. I used to be so good at putting my pain down into words, but that ability has left me these days, again, probably due to the antipsychotics. So I'm sorry to say that this is another one of those posts about why I'm not posting and how I can post more, with no disclaimer foretelling the inevitable failure this post will be.