Words stuck in my throat
Like the popcorn I just ate.
I am not inspired,
But I want to be.
Finished a novel in less than 20 days.
As I crossed the finish line,
It was 2:15 PM.
No one was home
Except me
And the cats
There are 3.
Writing this
Reminds me of writing poetry in high school
Which I did because I was always heartbroken over some
Stupid
Boy.
I kind of hate poetry…unless I like it.
When it rhymes,
I kind of want to give it the middle finger.
I also hate country music,
And Broadway musicals.
Middle finger to both.
Please don’t judge me,
Or be offended.
Writing and publishing—
It’s a business like any other—
Some YA lit I wonder, “Why?”
And no—
I’m not referring to Twilight.
I mean, come on,
Cold-blooded, dark-haired, golden-eyed guys?
Every girl's dream
I get it.
Been at this since 23 years old.
So
Makes sense that I feel irritable, angry, angsty—
My writing journey is 14 years old.
An irritable, insecure know-it-all freshmen,
Which was my single most mortifying year of high school.
I was fat.
I got dumped.
My grades were shit.
Although I am not fat,
No one has dumped me,
And grades don’t matter any more,
I still feel like a freshman at this.
