One of my worst ‘diggin’ your own grave’ writing habits is the one where when I need to write something now, I write it in a hundred different places and then just forget about it. 
I remember reading Joan Didion saying that she was the type to carry a notebook for these purposes, while her husband carried writing cards. 
I have a notebook. I have a notebook for writing and then I have a schedule book where I also end up writing ‘writing things’ when the other one is not right under my hand. And then there’s a notebook that was supposed to be only for work things. And then I also write on the backs of old work documents, napkins and random scraps of papers. 
What’s worse, is that even if I have a computer under my hands, I can’t be logical and consistent about it, and write in a various places in Scrivener, Ommwriter, typwrittr, something else… and then save it on a dozen of tiny documents I forget exist. And it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. I’m a child of chaos and when I need to write something I have no time to think about it. And afterwords I either deflate or need to run to do something else.

Why am I complaining about this now? That’s because the worst part about this is when I vaguely remember writing some scene… and have absolutely no friggin idea where did I actually write… And I need it.

I’m having a hard time learning how to describe a specific face.
I’m having a hard time in general, but also with the point of not making it sound like a dictation for a suspect sketch. (Yet, the biggest problem is still that the sketch artist would not be able to draw what I mean, because I can’t describe it correctly)

And every time I say this, people are like “But you don’t need do describe it.”
And I’m like “But there are times when I want to!”

I mean, there are times when you can be all vague and artistic and let people use their imaginations, and there times when you need a character to face this. specific. face. nomatterwhat.

It would be a lie to imply that I do not feel envy
towards people so easily touching and being touched.
So easily welcoming each other
and being comfortable in each other’s light.
It would be a lie to say I do not wish 
I could try being a part of it too.
Yet, to say that I believe myself able,
would be an even bigger untruth.

yes, sometimes I write sentences full of words that kind of sound like the words I actually intended to write but are not, and it takes me a while to notice that ‘cool’ became ‘could’ and ‘black’ became ‘lack’ and ‘palace’ became ‘please’ and generally it’s hard to see what I was trying to say since half the words are wrong, and ofter wrong in such a way that it would be hard to simply ‘mistype’