Doing the best for my big mouth.

I feel guilty. If I don’t sit down and write. Something. Daily. In a way, it’s an addiction. A positive one. Because writing makes me think. Gets my mind functioning. Even if it’s on a mundane level. At least, it’s a start. A recognition that I’m alive. Conscious. Breathing. Oh, I don’t have to write. To prove that I’m alive. But it helps. Immensely sometimes. So I do it. Out of a sense of obligation. But pleasure, too. Obligation and pleasure are intertwined. In me. I have a sense of wanting to do the right thing. And I’m in a constant debate. Over, what’s the right thing? I fluctuate. Feel my way. Raise doubts. Anyway, I’ve had a toothache for several days. Went to the dentist. And he’s trying to figure out the cause. Whether it’s a root canal that’s gone bad. Or an adjacent tooth that needs a root canal. Doesn’t sound good. But I’m okay with it. As long as I don’t lose a tooth. But if I ever do, I’ll try to scrounge up enough money for an implant. Yes, my priority is to do what’s best for my big mouth. For my overall health and well-being. Maybe that’s why I write. It’s good for me. Darn good. –Jim Broede