When All I Want to Do is Not Write

I haven’t been writing.

Anything at all.

It’s crazy, because I have so much that I need to say

but I just can’t get it out.

And every day that passes without a single word from my fingertips

it gets harder for me to pluck the thoughts from my brain;


and leave them here.

I know that for me the only way to be okay is

to purge the twisty-tangled mess;

to silence the committee in my head

that condemns my every decision;

my every choice;

my every feeling

and reminds me of how ill-equipped I am to handle this life thing

I have to write

and all I want to do is not write.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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