Who gave the bitch in the back a drink?

Staring at the page. Staring at the page. Staring at the big mutha fuckin blank goddamn page. 

Why are the fonts in my posts all over the place? Some posts the fonts are tiny, some the fonts seem normal. What’s up with that? 

Fonts are so much NOT what I want to write about. How about I write about the fucking oversensitivity of my keyboard and how it randomly opens up tools I don’t need and haven’t asked for and bringing up new windows or tabs I don't want and changing the formatting of whatever I'm typing randomly when I use Word.  Like while I was type this paragraph? It suddenly aligned itself center. NO. I do not want to fucking center this paragraph! So I have t 

Christ, it just happened again. This time? It tabbed the paragraph in, then brought up a window with options for things to “open”, you know, as if I wanted to open a new file…NO, I do not, I just want to fucking finish typing a fucking sentence!  

The worst one is when I am typing out a funny facebook post or a comment of praise on a insightful article I just read and I’d like to ask a sort of detailed question and I’m almost done AND… 

…and the hypersensitivity of the keys suddenly highlights the entire post and with the next keystroke it’s deleted. Fuck you, computer, eff-to-the-uck YOU. 

I think it may have something to do with how fast I type, which is pretty fast.  It may be the shortcuts and sticky keys combos that are supposed to make your computer work faster and easier. I don’t care about these and cannot remember my own new house phone number, so why would I try to remember a bunch of stupid shortcuts but my computer apparently feels I need them, because it keeps reminding me they are available. I’ve looked but I can’t figure out how to turn them off! 

My possessed computer is also not what I want to write about. But look, it filled up thirty minutes.  

I’m sure it only took you a couple of minutes to read what it took half an hour to drag out of my brain.
I’m super-cranky today. Also feeling...not good enough. There's a mean part of my brain that starts to whisper to me when I start getting excited about the possibility of writing a real, actual novel. "Who's going to read that? You think you're good? Look at all the people who are way better than you, look at how long it took them to get published. You're nowhere near that good. You are wasting your time, you should be using your energy for something else."

"You're being delusional. You're going to make a fool of yourself."

That's my biggest fear.

I really wish this back of the brain bitch would shut up.

I think my next post will be a cast of characters. From my own life I mean. Heh, cast and crew. Get your name in the credits! I will be introducing the various facets of my own brain too, so I'm sure that will be...creepy...for you to read. Okay, I really want a cigarette now. I've been keeping it to two a day, very occasionally three if I'd had a really bad day. It's keeping me from ripping my hair out by the roots. So that's good.