I think there’s too much these days. “Too much what?” you ask? Just too much. I think the issue is as simple as that. It’s a frightening paradox of life that we’re constantly striving for more, when the real problem is all we have. We’re constantly told “less is more, less is more” but we’re just given more and more every day. Too much advice I say. Too much pressure to be successful, too much pressure to have, too much pressure to be pretty, too much pressure to be smart, too much pressure to be PC, too much pressure to have it all figured out, and you have to wonder eventually when it all just slows down or when you get a breather or if it ever just all stops. Stops. My writing isn’t narrative enough. It’s too explorative. Too much. Too much exploring? I felt the need to write, and this is all I have. All I have, and that’s certainly not too much, but I’m spent. I’m spent on writing, and sometimes I feel like I’ll never be able to write well, or be successful at it, and life just seems so much scarier than it did when real life was lightyears away from me. When did it all become too much?