Used To

This was supposed to be my study weekend. Instead Regan and I spontaneously decided to drive home and I have spent the entire weekend pretending that I don’t have two tests tomorrow and a paper due Tuesday. I am hoping to make it back to Tucson by 9 o’clock at the absolute latest and then maybe I’ll be able to get in 4 or 5 hours of good studying.

And on that note, I am discouraged that I spend most of my blogging time talking/complaining about school. And of course this is only when I manage to type out a short paragraph or two between all of the other useless things I occupy my time with. I used to write about so many things. I used to write in my journal at least once a day. I don’t think I have written since February and for the life of me I cannot figure out why. I used to be passionate about what I wrote. Where did that go? I used to perpetually write stories in my head. I used to. What a sad sentence. It doesn’t matter what I used to do, even I know that.

I don’t know where to find the will to write. I don’t know how to muster the energy or where to look for ideas. Where did these things come from before? I have dozens of notebooks sitting under my bedroom at home filled with pages of words spilled from my mind, even more I have thrown away or destroyed from embarrassment, and multiple word documents deleted. Most of those were filled with ardor, an enthusiasm for creating I have not experienced in months. Sure, last semester I loved when I would write something I could feel proud of for my English class, but those occasions were few and far between. Mostly I just felt I was drowning in a class full of kids smarter than I was writing about things I did not understand. That is not fun writing. But I have almost forgotten what fun writing feels like.

I need something to be different. I need something in this last month of school to be different than the months before. I need to get out of my 11’ by 18’ dorm room. I need to get off Facebook. I need to sit outside, to breathe fresh air, to not feel like I am stuck in that room forever. It is slowly driving me up the walls.

I need to write again.