Write your story.

These three little words have been burning my corneas for about a week now. I’ve found myself in a bit of a rut. Every writer and pretty much any person that has made a specific habit of something has experienced this feeling or this hump of sorts. It’s a blockade of stupid that prevents you from furthering your ideas or executing that thing you’ve always wanted to do, or even just putting on pants and braving the outside world. (Because frankly, that’s been a challenge for me this past week.) I’ve felt the weight of this block on my shoulders for all the live long day and I’m tired! I’m so so tired of it. And that’s what has brought me here. I am going to write. I am going to write on this Medium thing, even if it’s all crap and for naught and I’m going to die a loser anyways. I’m still writing on it. No matter how many of those nasty brain goblins sitting in the corner of my cranium rock back and forth and snicker at my intense idiot-ness. (Idiot-ness is not a word. I’m sorry for making up words. This is what happens when I don’t write for a while. I create a kenna dictionary. A kennictionary, if you will. Ugh. Too far.)

So, yeah. Here it is.

I’ve felt terrible lately which can be pretty frustrating. I’ve had an amazing month but a terrible mind. You always hear about people rising above terribel circumstances and being fantastic and curing a disease or getting into a spectacular school or giving back to their community. Where as I’ve reversed the roles. I’m a oozing human carcass in the middle of a field of white daisies. I’m staining the viciously green grass red and christening the air with stench. Just peachy, right? You might want to know the circumstances of my horribleness, so I’ll tell you.

I graduated this month. I made through years of prison and came out on top. I even graduated a full year early from my class. This stepping stone has made me glow yellow in sheer happiness. (And possibly jaundice, but probably happiness. Maybe I should get that checked out.) Anyways. Yet, I still feel empty. I feel gutted. I feel lost. Nothing is as it should be, but everything is perfect. So yeah. I’m going to stop there. Partly, because I’ve been rambling for a while and partly because I’m getting tired of making you listen to me whine. But I’ll close in a quote from one of my favorite bands to sum up how I’ve felt and hopefully won’t feel in the near future.

“I’ve grown tired of holding this pose. I’m feel more like a stranger each time I come home… I want to make a clean escape.”