If we were having tea, I’d tell you how I haven’t written a word in weeks and you’d call me a liar because, truth is, I have thrown some random thought here and there just for the sake of keeping me alive, but they’re not quality thoughts. See, I put so much pressure on me and lately I’ve been so much less than perfect.
If we were having tea, I’d tell you about the block and you’d laugh in my face and say I’m trying too hard. But in fact, I’m too lazy to even try. My favourite teacher, whose writing advice is gold, told us to read one book a week. It’s been a month. Guess where my book count’s at…
I ripped the pages out of six notebooks last night. I’ve never loathed my words so much. Now that they’re gone I only feel emptier instead of better. And I’m thinking, if I can’t find the time to write one simple sentence a day, then one of these days I’m not gonna find the time to breathe.
If we were having tea, I’d roll my eyes at the happy couple passing our table. I find myself annoyed by happy people. Their energy drains me from my energy. The energy I don’t have anyway.
I have no idea what I’m saying. That’s the point, you’d say. Do you know what you’re saying? Why say anything at all, just for the sake of saying something? I’ve noticed, people who say an awful lot tend to say things they don’t mean and that leads to misunderstandings and I’m too tired for that. I’m so tired these days and I don’t think it’s the lack of sleep. It might be the lack of something else.
If we were having tea, I’d tell you that I’m afraid I’ve lost the passion for it all. Every second is a struggle because there’s so much I should be doing, but I just can’t feel it.
I only feel all the wrong feelings.