When you feel like writing but don’t know what to say
When I feel like writing and don’t know what to say, I force my fingers to keep moving despite my empty thoughts. Trying to force the flow if that makes any sense? I ramble and ramble and ramble to no avail. Maybe I stumble upon something that makes sense and maybe it continues to dribble out like drool at dawn. My heart is racing and for some reason seeing words appear on the screen brings me some sort of peace, so I keep moving my fingers. Click clack thunk click thunk. Just keep writing and something will happen, or maybe it’s already happening now? Or maybe I’m overthinking it? Ah, who cares. For now, it feels great to meander across the screen. The neat rows that keep growing from left to right seem to give some sort of order to the meaningless chaos that is this paragraph. I suppose I’m looking for something but how can I find it if I don’t know what it is? I digress.
But my breath begins to even out and I suppose that I’ve found what I was looking for, a sliver of peace on this Monday eve.. I’m sitting at a white, granite counter at the public library, I reach down to touch it and it’s warmer than I expect. There’s an outlet embedded in it’s surface, it reminds me of a bleached sand dollar at low tide, lying dead but vibrant in the sand. I’ve got to keep my fingers moving, for better or for worse. I drop my shoulders and take a deep breath. Not sure what’s got into me but it sure does feel good to write.
My thoughts are running thin. They feel like plastic wrap stretched just before it rips, its petroleum membrane catching the light and then snapping into a shriveled mess on the floor. Eh, maybe I’m being dramatic. Anyways..