5:35pm: Fear, the fear that this is it. All my creativity is gone and gone forever, destined to never return. I will never write another thing, make another thing or say another thing that will mean anything to anybody. I’m destined to just write lists about random things that nobody is interested in, essays about books I don’t even like, and sad sad emails to the people who I’ll end up having to work with in some sad day job that involves sitting in a cubicle and working for a company I don’t like.
5:42 pm: The millions of emotions swirling through my mind. I can never focus on one thing my mind goes from thinking about (and not doing) that 3000 word English essay that’s due in two days to wondering why any of us are here. I’m 18, I’m still so young and everybody keeps on saying I have potential and that I’m going to be successful one day but honestly if they read my journals and saw all of the half baked project and unfinished essays, they would take it all back.
6:04pm: My own fingers. Why did I never learn how to type with more than just my index fingers? Every other finger(or thumb) besides the first two feels all weird and confused now. What am I even supposed to do with them, will they just stop working and lose all of their strength if i don’t start using them more? is this why it’s taking me so long to get to the middle of my novel? Yeah, that’s it. It’s the fingers not my own inability to work at something until it’s finished.
7:20pm: I don’t even know why I’m writing. What do I hope to gain from this? Another document to add to the ever expanding folder of ‘work on this it could be good’ files on my desktop? It seems to be always growing, making me want to run for the hills and wish that i’d fell in love with something like lemon slicing, lemon slicing now that I could commit to and speaking of lemons I should probably go and slice some, I want my skin to glow and need an excuse to leave my desk, again.
8:25pm: I’m hungry that’s it yup. Yeah, I ate dinner an hour ago but I think my blood sugar is low… I’m going to be honest I don’t even know what that means. I stopped paying attention to year 11 biology somewhere between enzymes and microproteins so maybe that not what I need. Education, that’s what I need! Why write something when I can actually just read other people’s books and then feel super intimidated by it all and pretend for a few days that writing isn’t even a thing I need to do to maintain my sanity.
10:10 pm: It’s me, I’ve worked it out it’s just me.