For whatever reason that is still unbeknownst to me, my self-preservation instincts seem to have vanished completely over the past few days. I have seen sunlight only through the window, and even then it burns my eyes – like Edward Cullen’s sitting right outside and sparkling the shit out of himself through the frickin glass. At this point my teeth vaguely remember the feeling of toothpaste. I have already lost count of the number of days I have not showered. (Must be around three… I hope.) I bet the non-shaving man-shaming ‘feminists’ out there would be proud of me.
Gross, I know. Bear with me here.
I haven’t been eating properly, even though I destroyed very single edible thing around the house, and a few inedible ones, too. By this point I am not sure if my bowels would even recognise a vegetable if they have the happiness to encounter one.
Instead, I have taken to coffee and sugar as my solace. Helps make the constant banging of my head against the table more bearable. Sweetens it, kinda. (I know. Pun intended HAHAHA.)
But put aside my self-destroying dietary habits, there’s more than that. You guys know that I’m a fitness junkie. Well, yeah, I haven’t been doing that either. Over the past week my butt has become best friends with the couch. They seem to really have taken a liking to each other – so much so that one has started taking the shape of the other. I’ll let you guess which one is which.
And even if my abrupt withdrawal from the healthy lifestyle might surprise you, that is not my biggest problem. Or the real one, at that. I have been stuck at home banging my frickin head against the wall (primarily the table, but, hey, a girl’s gotta have some diversity, right?)
Even worse than the above is the fact that I haven’t seen a human being other than the cashier at the supermarket – whom I saw only out of necessity, and even so, it was at least four days ago – for the past goddamn week. In addition to that, I haven’t been on social media either – I know, fucking “civil death” nowadays – I have just not wanted to have anything in common with human kind. If it weren’t for my mom calling me, I bet everybody would be thinking I’m fucking dead by now. Because, seriously, it’s just that bad.
So I guess after reading all this and thinking “Wooow, she’s really fucked up”, you might be wondering what is my real problem, exactly. Let me tell you. Or, more precisely, let me illustrate it to you.
There was a catchphrase I encountered not too long ago, I believe it was in a sketch by ‘Saturday Night Live’. But I remember hearing it and being like, “Oh my god, it’s so sad, but they hit the nail on the head with that one”. The sketch was about two guys talking, and one said to the other, somewhat vaguely, in the midst of everything else: “Oh, and what did you call those pale people that take the subway? .. Oh, yeah, writers.”
God fucking damn.
I remember sitting there thinking how exactly true that was, and at the same time realizing “Oh my frickin god, I am one of them”. I’d always been a ‘bookworm’, as I had proudly dubbed myself, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realised that – oh my god, I really was one.
So now we get to my current predicament, and the real reason why I have proclaimed civilization as not good enough for me lately. I have writer’s block.
To tell you the truth, it’s maybe not the exact thing you would picture under the definition of “writer’s block”. But it is an ugly demon and it does tend to stick its head from all kinds of places, so you never really know where it’s gonna hit you from.
So what I have been experiencing lately is more a lack of clarity. Like, ‘I have an idea, but as soon as I sit down to outline, it turns to crap’, sort of lack of clarity. Truth be told, I have a very strong idea of what I want to write – the specific details of it just have not fully clarified themselves to me yet. And that is what drives me the fuck insane. There is nothing – nothing – more excruciating than having something to say and not knowing how exactly you wanna say it. It’s absolute fucking crap, lemme tell ya.
So what I’ve decided to do is just leave it for a few days. Maybe till next week at the latest. You know, let it settle. Get back to the World Of The Living and maybe take a shower. Eat something that’s still alive and see how my bowels will handle it. Maybe push myself to the limit, sit for a few minutes in the sunlight and see if I turn to ashes. And just hope my story comes back to me before I forget what I even wanted to do with it in the first place.
Until then, take care peeps, and pray for me. (HA. You fools, I cannot be saved, don’t kid yourselves.)