Shrug

I keep wanting to write. I do, I really do. So I start. One sentence. Two sentences. Then I stop. It doesn't feel right. I don't know why. So I reword them. They still don't feel right. So I quit.

I wonder why. There have been several times in the last month that I sat down, my computer cradled in my lap, trying to write. But I never can. I could tell you what's going on in my life, but it seems to boring. I'm bored with it, why would anyone else care?

I can't write about what I'm feeling. That hurts too much. It's scary. It would solidifying everything that I would rather ignore. I'd have to see it every time I open my internet browser. There is pain in my heart. Sometimes it's even tangible; a dull ache, or pressure, like someone's got their hand on my chest. Don't go forward. No. You can't. Take a step back. You don't belong here. So I take a step back. I can't go there. I don't even know where there is. That hand stops me.

I'm getting frustrated. I'm tired of not understanding what I'm going through. My life isn't calculus! I should be able to understand. Why can't I understand? Why can't I go on? What is wrong with me that I'm not allowed to get past this? I don't even know where "there" is.

Tragedy

You're probably wondering if I fell off the face of the planet after finals week, seeing as I haven't written anything since before then. As much as I tried to do so and have wished that I had, I'm still here, sitting on my bed in Orlando. Much has happened, but I honestly don't really have time to talk about it.

My hard drive crashed, so I'm in the arduous process of getting my life back. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the pictures from Barbados off of my old hard drive.