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I am the worst (or rather, best?) procastinator. Everytime I start to get even remotely close to getting something done that needs to get done, I attempt to distract myself with something that will make me feel as if I am being productive in some other, less important way. I often suceed.

And well, that explains why I am here. After years of abandoning you, after a fleeting hope that you would be something new for me — a fresh start of sorts — I am finally here. I don’t even care if anyone finds this, and I don’t even care if people realize what this is, who I am, what I feel here. I care only about making an attempt, and keep attempting over and over until I succeed, at some peace of mind.