I know I’d promised to come here more often, but I got to judging my words, doubting they were worth listening to. I get tired. People don’t want to hear about it but I get so fucking tired. Sometimes, my words float and sometimes they sink to the bottom. I hate when I’m boring, but these days, I can be boring, so incredibly boring. I got to worrying that you might not like me when I don’t feel well, that you’d see those boring words disintegrating like stale bread in a fishless pond and stop listening to me.
It’s hard when I feel myself go silent, disappear behind a brain that doesn’t let me finish sentences without some serious focus let alone a whole series of thoughts. I miss my metaphors the most. It can’t be all about pain here. I’m supposed to entertain you, make you think, make you laugh. But pain crumbles my thoughts, gets them wet, floats them away.
Lately, the pain has been more sharp, more than just stone under my ribcage. It leaves me shaking so that I can’t read my own writing if I write by hand and if I type, I type double letters, a visual stutter. But mostly it takes my words away.
That’s what I miss most about my former life, those moments of creativity that used to bubble through me, wearing down stone in order to escape, flowing through everything I did whether I wanted it to or not. Now, I feel the scum on a still pond. Some days, infrequently, I feel a current, a freshness of creativity, but most days, I can’t.
It sucks. This totally sucks. Can anybody hear me? Would this be worth listening to if you could?
Sorry this isn’t chatty. When I sat down, I thought I could be chatty. I’m too tired to move it over to the crabby side.
Thank you for listening anyway, jules