This week I feel as if I have nothing to write about. There are no deep pains I have to get off my chest, no truths to uncover. I always ask myself what is the point of writing if it’s not going to be great. In fact what is the point of you doing anything if it is not the best. I’ve struggled with this notion throughout my life and I feel have quit many things I loved because I didn’t understand I could do them simply just to do enjoy them. I didn’t have to care about rank or what the finished product was or even, what people thought of it. I made a commitment to myself to do something, in this case write and even if I write about nothing for sixty straight weeks it’s the commitment to that nothing that counts.