Blog Every Day April: 4/6

"flux, n.

The natural state. Our moods change. Our lives change. Our feelings for each other change. The song changes. The air changes. The temperature in the shower changes.

Accept this. We must accept this."

The Lover's Dictionary

David Levithan

Before I go any further, please allow me direct you toward some other fantastic BEDA bloggers. Laurel (future roommate and partner in sap), Lydia (the eloquent and excellent and ohmygoodnessiloveher), Ryan (thanks for humoring me, good sir), Maggie (remember that time that I am woefully behind on your beautiful posts?), and Manar (She's writing poems and is also the most adorableawesome person on the planet!) are all worthy of your love and devotion.

What makes this project so fun is the camaraderie of it all. Also the words. The words are pretty cool.

Granted, now that I look for them, they elude me. It's almost as if it was easier to take on the project in August, when I had large gaps of time and thoughts to fill them with. It was easier when I was more certain of where my words would be going.

I do not feel woefully wordless, yet the fact that ideas don't spring as they did once before hangs on me like a weight. I haven't attempted fiction seriously in years, finding a few thousand words to entertain me and drop off the face of the earth only every so often since.

I try not to let it worry me. I try to tell myself that I am merely suffering growing pains, but--you see--I've changed, and I fear there are no words left for me.

I have averaged several hours less sleep than usual for the past two nights. I like to sleep a ridiculous amount, and the sudden lack is becoming less than funny. Words sit in this place, promising another hour's wringing of hands as I try to muster thoughts.

Laurel calls me as she ventures her way home on the bus. I put the phone on speaker and leave it balanced on my knee as I type.

"What if distance wasn't dumb?" she asks.

If only.

I'm not sure what words I have for you right now. I wrote a blog post about a week ago, but it was as close to "too personal" as I've ever gotten, at least in the fact that I would feel uncomfortable were the persons referenced to read it. If confrontation does come about, I don't want it to be that way.

And, frankly, I'm scared of confrontation. I'm scared of taking chances. I'm scared of sussing out truths not everyone will agree with. This doesn't mean I have never done and will never do such things but rather that, at this point in my life, I am very tentative to do them. Still, part of me wishes I could. My thoughts are most often scattered and irrational, yet I measure my every action carefully before taking it. As a result, I do nothing. As a result, I worry everything.

It's so much easier, and more fun, to replay amusing social situations here than express my true emotions. I have been in an uncomfortable state of feeling misunderstood lately, conflicted in area after area and stuck wishing.

I forget that I don't have to wish, don't have to hope. It's going to be okay. It's going to hurt, but it's going to be okay.

Life goes on.

Not knowing.

Hours and hours have been spent in feeble attempt to create some semblance of a blog post. No less than five drafts sit in The Magic Box Of Drafts. Two of them are blank. One is almost something. My fingers itch to backspace.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I feel now more than ever that whatever I put forth will be judged. I fear people will hate me for my words, for my scattered and uncertain thoughts. I have taken to saying nothing.

I don't know anything.

Not true, in theory, but it is how I feel at this point in my life.

It is easier to say nothing than put into words my aimless reaching for understanding.