On restarting what's been restarted before

Nobody's here so I can write this with the ease of a tree falling in the forest. I have tried returning several times only to procrastinate- what do you know, even guilt has a sunk cost fallacy. 

I know what I feel or say doesn't hold a lot of import (or skill [or context, often]). This has been, for the most part, an exercise in self exploration, but doing it publicly feels almost exhibitionist once you aren't twenty. But I owe it to myself, to try and scream into the void- not to be heard, but for the act, in and of itself. 

I haven't been the best at writing what I feel without the comfortable veil poetry or fiction spreads across the screen. 

So I'll try and unveil my words more often. Let's see.