Just for the week I had two drafts written but I stress over whether to post them or not. For one, the contents speak of being real, and though I don't think I've been pretentious big-time, I know I've also been hiding many things. When there's a flick of courage-mixed-honesty influencing my emotions to write, as soon as I finish the posts I'm back to sucking them up. And there's more guilt in that, because I already prepared my mind to expose--then suddenly I'll snap: Wait! Is this right? Isn't this too bothersome? Is this essential? Resulting in frustration topping frustrations.
I'm frustrated with many things, dear journal, and they don't show. I wish I could talk about them but again, what just happens is the description above.