outta juice!!

Well well well look who’s back. Here to say a quick hello before I go downstairs for some Oreos. It’s currently midnight right now, and we’re clocking into the 4th of April! (We made it to April!) But I’m also here to say what the heck – I really don’t know what or how to write anymore. It’s so weird. Like even right now, I’m having the hardest time trying to find a point to this post, but at the same time, I refuse to address anything relevant.

For example, there’s a very big elephant in the room. It’s the reason why the world has turned upside down and the reason why I get to stay in bed forever and never leave my house (which in all honesty, has been a granted wish but I really did not intend the whole world to suffer at my expense). Anyway, that elephant in the room will stay in the room because I don’t want to tell you what you already know, I don’t want to contribute to the stickiness of sorrow that we’re all knee-deep in, and at the end of the day I also just came here to say…I ran out of juice!

There’s no steam, no angst, no emotion leaping from my chest, screaming to be written down. And it makes me want to bash my head against the wall because if there’s any time to sit down and write, it’s now!! Actually okay here’s a real-life scenario that will give you more insight as to why my suppression levels are at an all-time high these days. Today at dinner, my sister and I had one of our explosive fights and I never want to speak to her ever again (sadly she is in the room right next to me so that means I really have to dance my way around our bathroom routine and hope to not run into her when I need to shower). But here’s the important part – all the hurtful stuff she said, I already forgot…or on the way to forgetting.

Multiple times since, I still hear the ringing of the insult and it makes my neck prickle with sweat and tension, but immediately – I mean, truly it’s incredible how fast I’m able to practice this – it goes away. Like an imaginary incinerator just burning the hurt into ash and burying it way deep.

So. All in all, that is why I no longer have tufts of topics I can just pull by the handful anymore. Therefore, no stories or poems in the making. Very mentally constipated, in other words.

Okay the Oreos are really calling me now. Next time I come back here, I promise I’ll try to have more substance.

 

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