In my bed

I had to hang up on a call with a friend because my reality was starting to hit me. I ended the call right on time. As soon as I hit the end button, tears were rolling down my unnecessarily chubby cheeks.  

How can I express this deep darkness I'm feeling? How can I let go of it?
I'm getting to the point where I do not even have the energy to write by hand as I have been doing for the past 15 years. 

I opened my laptop and logged on to write "Have I lived enough?" 
I started writing and writing, while crying and crying.

No one would believe I am the person feeling these thoughts. So I feel free to publish my crazy. 

I let it all out. But before publishing, editing happened. I can't help myself. I love words, and how they form, and double meaning, and syntax, and being creative with phrasing. 

It reminded me of the book The War of Art by Steven Pressfield [EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ IT] and how, as an artist, you don't know why you do things, you just do them. And if you could be doing anything, you'd be doing that... 

As weird as it is for me to say, I absolutely love editing and formatting. It was the only thing that calmed my mind, spirit, and thoughts this evening. 
I always thought that it was writing that made me feel better - but now I know it's also fixing writing! Funny enough, I can't decide if I love fixing other people's writing more or fixing my own.

I also love free writing. Which is what this piece will probably be.

There are no rules to this site yet, and I kind of love that. This is like English class, with assignments I give myself, and no grades. 


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