We all change, right? Tiny little bits of our lives make us into people we weren’t before. Or they solidify our beliefs and hold us to our cynicism. Like if you’re terrified of people leaving and then someone you actually trusted to stay disappears your beliefs go right back into place. You were right. And there are times when you go around to different places hoping to be changed. You make experiences happen in hopes of a shift that doesn’t happen. It doesn’t work the way it does in novels where one summer turns your point of view. Or maybe sometimes it does. And you use your journal to recover or ignore people who weigh you down and the shift happens so slowly and so quietly you’re left to wonder how and when and why. You read a book and it changes how you feel inside deep at your core but if you don’t change anything externally you are who you are still just with a different core. You blabber into a wordpress website and hope discipline makes you a better writer but you never actually learn discipline. You just learn to use more words. Or to ignore that little voice telling you to write.

And then.

Then you really physically make a change. You register for online classes for a Masters Degree. And you feel lost. But not lost because you’re confused, because this is a major life change you don’t really want, because there’s a whole bunch of money you’re using on loan to get this degree that whatifyouactuallyhate. You feel lost because your perception of time changes. You can’t believe it’s been an entire month when it feels like a week. You forget to do nothing because you can’t because if you do you’re screwed. OR you might be screwed. Or you might spend an entire day on an assignment that still feels mediocre but you can’t think or read or write anything else or you might explode.

You are confused because the things you love you don’t want to do anymore. You’re burnt out on words. And words carry you by. Words are everything.

And blogging is a foreign concept. You skip articles in your newsfeed because there are just too many words. You remember and forget your blog which is no doubt losing readers (Because who needs readers if there’s nothing to read?).

I’m still here guys. I’m just writing to say I’m confused. I’m burnt out on words. It kind of physically hurts to write this right now. My hands are tired, my eyes don’t want to see more letters. But I can’t not have words. I can’t not write. I can’t not read. I can’t save these things for school and work online. Because that makes them even more depressing, if you think about it.

So what’s a girl to do?

I need expression.

I need connect.

I need something here that’s tangible, even if it’s only on the web.

I’m writing to say that I’m here.

That beneath the heaps of new music I need to listen to and the piles of notebooks and writing 2400 words of fiction for the first time in months I’m still here. And I want to be here. I just need to figure out how. How to be a presence. How to express myself. How to connect. And still not sit down and write another essay to post in my little corner of the world.


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