The Need For A Text Blog

This is going to be tedious and ramblic. You've been warned.
I quit textblogs last spring. There was a boy and a fight and a need for finishing, but that boy and that fight have gone. I am left with nothing but beginnings. I felt censored, like anything I said would be used against me. Like anything would be ammunition in a war I never intended to be a part of, that I didn't think I started to begin with.
Then I think about names, and I think about intentions, and I think about subject matter, and I think about the nearly empty paper journal sitting in my purse. Most importantly, I think about the location of my laptop, which is the land of sunshine and dust, far away from me. And I realize that I can't go back to the old one, at least. Because I want to have something to say. I want to prove that I'm not on the back burner anymore. I've got my hands in things, and my fingernails are the dirtiest in existence. They won't come clean, but that's no reason for me not to. Sometimes a photograph taken with a cell phone isn't enough.
Here we are, then. When a picture taken with a cell phone doesn't cut it. When there are no pictures to be taken. My toes aren't deformed anymore. My hair is short, back like the last time I was single. Nothing and everything is holding me here. What is the need for a textblog for someone who doesn't plan on writing about politics or movies or cooking?
The need to connect.
Here I am. Find me.