Procrastination and deadlines. ALL me.

I open up this blog on September 5th with great intentions for writing my me, and haven't touched it yet. I kept putting it off, procrastination. Now faced with the overwhelming pressure to write something by this evening, a deadline I which I put on myself, this is what all of the stress amounted to. An excuse for why I haven't done it. This is not something I don't want to do. There's nothing pushing me to make this happen. I've wanted to write me for over a decade and I keep starting then failing. All I can think about tonight is yet another failure. Not a creative moment, but I guess if I'm writing me, this is exactly me. What a rough, rough, unrefined, ROUGH start to something that in my heart feels so important and so special. At least I made an eleventh hour attempt? I'm not completely hopeless? I haven't fully given up on myself? This is me...sigh. At least I haven't lost hope. 

*Edit...I got it in before the deadline, me. It's awful garbage but it's a start. And it truly is me.