::sits down::
::pulls hair back::
::flexes fingers::
::picks nose::
::begins to type::
I don’t remember what it’s like to come home and write an amusing post about my shenanigans of the day anymore. I sit and stare at the blank Word Doc and wait for something entertaining to come into view. Lyrics and poetry are really all that just seem to naturally flow anymore.
Really, I’m not trying to be emo about this, but I was just reading some of my archived selves and really miss feeling like I had so much to say.
Do I still have a lot to say? Well… yes. But I don’t see the point in taking the time to say half of it anymore. What, exactly, did typing it all out really do for me?
No comments:
Post a Comment