Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Melodramatic Missive

No words, no words. I usually write every day. Blog entries that never get posted, journal entries that get ripped to shreds, emails in which I spill my guts, scraps of paper that get tucked into obscurity, covered in the words that represent my thoughts and feelings. But there have been no real words since before Regionals, making me only more desperate to conjure or fabricate some. There's just nothing to write about. No thoughts, no feelings, just mushy hollowness. No expectations, no reflections, just undefined achiness. I am tired.

In the absence of words to write, I've been reading them instead. It's been so long since I've inhaled a book, and so I've had to learn the process all over again. I used to be such a speedy reader, very efficient, but now I plod slowly through and it's a chore no matter how fascinating the story is. As much as I enjoy it, reading is tiresome. And the stories! I cannot sympathize with greasy Winston Smith, I cannot care about poor Margaret Lea, I cannot be bothered with volatile Jane Studdock, and it feels blasphemous to read Against All Hope without a sense of reverence. 

The words are irrelevant to me. Since I cannot read and cannot write and cannot make up my mind to accomplish anything, instead I've been sitting at my computer writing a speech while revisiting those Relient K CDs I listened to 400 times, wow, was it five years ago? (I feel so old, things change and age, and I don't even noticed that it's happened.) I feel listless, but this is all I can do. I am counting the hours until May begins so I can procrastinate my novel to get my real work done. And yet I'm still afraid the words won't come back to me in time. I'm just so tired.

And these words are just farce. Words I don't mean. Words that aren't me. (Honestly, when have I cared this much for words? Only in the most obscure, sappy parts of my mind, the parts that I couldn't show to anyone even if I wanted to - no, this isn't me at all, but I can't seem to help it. I hate it, saying things I don't mean, but I can't seem to stop it.) Everyone gets tired. Everyone gets overwhelmed. Everyone loses motivation at some point. Suck it up. Get over it. Read your Bible, go to sleep, everything will be brighter in the morning.


Art said...

Oh oh oh! I've felt the same thing so many times, I have to spit out words to live, but I want them to mean something.

I'm not sure how I can be most encouraging, except to say that all I know how to do is "eead your Bible, go to sleep." And, of course, write stupid things in my journal about having nothing to say.

Art said...

It bothers me that it bothers me when I mistype things in comments. *Sad smile at self*

K-Mac said...

this kinda makes me sad.

and that wasn't a very helpful comment at all.

but, I guess...
& I'll pray for you, I :am: praying for you.
and words...they're just words. until we give them meaning, until WE give them power. I'm not sure what I mean, but...:shrug:

QueenOfLillyFlowers said...

Hayley, for not having anything to say you are making a whole lot of sense! i feel in a limbo between worlds right now.
i loved the "thirteenth tale" even though the beginning, like " Jane Eyre" is slow..
you actually are writing like Diane Setterfield today...