Ink to Paper Drought

 

W R I T E R S    B L O C K

 

I tried to compose whatever emotion I felt towards this semester, I could not. Things had already been said to the ones I care & speak to most, why would I need to elaborate more? The usual lessons learned, another semester passed, did not seem too important that I could find the words for it. Next.

 

I knew better than to be vague or cruel or too heart - on - my - sleeve. So I spared those who ever care to read this thing of my restless nightmares & wounded heart, due to my own hand it once seemed. I have dried those lost eyes now, & fixed them on something much more capable of handling wild things like me.

 

Then there was a more lighthearted vibe of donuts & white chicken chili. Food. Fellowship. Friends. I could share the stories of seeing my city through fresh eyes not from here & accepting the assistance in parallel parking on Euclid Ave. But of course, no words came & I again rolled over in my twin bed, surrounded by black & magenta walls my younger self compromised mom for. Defeated.

 

Read a few chapters in a book I bought for half price in Atlanta. Even watched my favorite movie. Hoping to find some sort of inspiration anywhere. Chicken scratched away more confusion, questions, & words that were much too seasoned with anger for shared growth. There was no music in those words. I was stuck... honestly I'm still kind of stuck, I am just writing about it now.

 

Maybe the constant struggle I had (have) with setting high standards for myself at a young age. Now seeing the base/mid way point to some of these hurdles (mountains) I am beginning to question the 14 year old me. Nope. Can't muster up enough humility to admit that what I chose has me sobbing in a mini van, fumbling for that dumb cell phone, to call the only person I know who mourns and celebrates like me. Or maybe when I took my best friend out for coffee (the stuff I can't have anymore cause my heart is too much of a freaking risk) And she hears the screams on the other line of a phone call. Sorry but it was hard enough to tell her what a mess this was, let alone tell the public.

 

Along with those high standards for myself - I also mess up a lot with my sisters. Both. Older & younger. Unfortunately for the younger though, she's had to deal with me everyday of her life. Gross. Family issues never really seem pleasant to write about though - so we stick to the pretty, the well groomed, well mannered, hush hush, kind of family life. Thankfully my sisters & I know how to fail miserably - but own up to those failures with grace, honesty, & a willingness to get back up again. This season of our lives we are now old enough to look each other in the face (or in some cases on the phone) & deal with things. Lay them out. Yell, cry, breathe, & hug. No, family matters couldn't be delved into just yet though.

 

Maybe if I wrote about the goodness & simplicity that was this last week? Playing house in the at home store with my best, cuddling a new puppy in a house off of E Louden, in that neighborhood I used to take hip hop class. Or playing kemps on the floor with all of the 2nd fam - new house - same full hearts. The dusting off of old records & reminiscing with my dad. Finally sending off an application that held some big moves.

 

If I wrote about the end of the year - or the coming of 2015 - I might just die now. Many people who know me, know that C H A N G E for me comes as hard as W R I T E R S   B L O C K for someone located on Oprah's book list for sure.

 

Anyway. All of this is too much for me to think about now & I won't stress myself out on not having anything to say in a poetic or learned way. There's some fresh paint tattooed on my heart & there are only 4 days left in 2014.

 

I'm praising God in this ink to paper drought & rejoicing that He isn't done writing my story just yet