Tired with all these

I am tired. I spent two very difficult days. My feet hurt, and I want to go to bed. I have to get something done. If I could just feel like writing was of some benefit to the world or to one person in it, I ould be very happy. I guess it makes one person happy, but its just me. Would my mother think I am ever so arrogant to think my ramblings are important? Sometimes I read old stuff I wrote a long time age. I can't tell that it has changed much. Maybe the subject matter has shifted, but the thoughts and style probably hasn't. I don't think I am a good judge of my own stuff. After all, I know what it means. Oh, well.