destitute

I'm feeling that loss of words thing that I talked about on Day 1. There have been so many fun things going on, yet I just don't know how to write about any of it and still be true to how my heart is faring. I just don't have enough words right now. I am disappointed in myself for not taking better care. I want to be happy and well for myself and my family. I am surrounded by joy. And yet I can't seem to grasp it at the moment. And I feel even more destitute than ever because of it. I have wishes right on the tip of my tongue, but wishing doesn't matter. I've learned that the hard way a few times. It seems ridiculous to write about things that won't ever happen. I've often said I'm not a writer of fiction. I've also said that I don't believe in crushes. So if it isn't truly reciprocated, shared love, it is fiction. And not worthy of writing about. Kidding yourself is nonsense.

Here I am now. I've found some words. I don't like them though, but I'll leave them just the same, so I can have proof of where my mind wanders when given space.

exercise day

The alarm goes off. My blurry eyes look around the dark room. I wish I could go back to sleep. I don't go back to sleep. Shoes are hiding. Where are my shoes? I wish I could go back to sleep. Somehow I am sitting on the edge of my bed. Do not go back to sleep. I get a text saying it's time to exercise. Getting a quick drink of water, I wish one more time for more sleep as I walk out my front door and down the street to my friend's house to exercise.

And that is how I begin my day most days of the week. The struggle is so real. 

empty

The funny thing about being a writer is that even when you're empty, you still have words floating around telling you that you have no words. You ponder how empty you truly are and where the words all went.

You try to describe the place you are searching for that hoarded the words you want to work with but can't. You climb the mountain of regret and swim across the lake of shining waters (wait—that's from another story). Then you arrive but don't. You see just how empty the house is that you thought was a home. It has bare cupboards and certainly no fire by which to keep warm. Zero flame. And still—no words to be found. 

You search the pages of other people's books to find some words for you to no avail. Nothing will bring your words back to you. Nothing is on the page but hurt. Unless you stop for a moment to see.

Imagination bends to creation, and all of a sudden you have told a story so full of emptiness that it is brimming with possibilities of a sequel and even the chance to be made into a movie. Maybe the screenplay could be written after the next heartbreak rips away the words like a magician and his tablecloth—leaving no words once again—but never truly empty.

grilled cheese

The days just melt into each other sometimes like grilled cheese sandwiches. The gentle hum of routine keeping that griddle hot but not too hot. The butter on life's bread slowly toasting into a golden crisp as the center goes through a chemical change from plain cheese to liquid joy, and it all melts in your mouth from first to last bite. Life is fluid and messy, yet it can be deliciously delightful.

Grilled cheese kinds of days are the goal. I wonder how often we savor the comforts we enjoy. I wonder how often we simply partake without thinking.

I wonder how often I can't even see when grilled cheese is right in front of me set on a plate waiting for me to take a bite.

3.1.2017

The first slice is always the hardest, I think. There is this uncanny pressure to write something profound when embarking on the month-long journey.

I don't really have anything though. I have barely written anything in several months in comparison to how much I am used to writing, so this every day thing is truly intimidating to me. Maybe it will help me get out of this shell I've crawled into. Either that, or I will truly hate my life come May.

I say May because directly following Slice of Life Month is National Poetry Month. I seriously don't know how I'm going to make it. I just don't have the words right now. I've been feeling a new energy coming about though, so maybe it will all work out. Things usually do.

But all of this is a first world problem, so I will survive. I will write and will survive. Plain and simple.

Now, I just need to think of some ideas for what to write tomorrow!