HONESTY HOUR: A WRITER’S BLOCK
As I listen to Kelly Rowland’s “Dirty Laundry” ring in the morning, it occurs to me that I’m angry. Not an angry that will pass with the joy of listening to her bandmate, Beyonce, but an angry that clings to my ribs and suffocates me. It’s an angry that I’ve never reached in my 22 years of living. It’s an angry that some writers wish for because it pushes them to write some incredible shit. It’s an angry I thought I had given up.
I hadn’t.
Yesterday my ex decided that it wasn’t enough to end our relationship on rocky terms, we had to hate each other. She had to say things to me that she probably would never say in person. She had to be as brutal and hurtful as possible so she could go back to her ex, absolved from the guilt that was probably sitting in her chest after deciding to return to her ex. It was by far the worst things an individual has ever said to me (and I’ve been told some shit). I claimed her as my first love, she claimed me as her biggest mistake. Ouch, right?
Since the breakup, I haven’t been compelled to write. I’ve longed stopped writing things that weren’t from the heart, but where do you go when your heart is broken? How do you push yourself to write when you’ve decided to only write things that are real and your reality is a little fucked up right now? I can’t write another relationship drama. I already have one coming out in a couple of months. This writer’s block is no joke. I can watch a hundred films, come up with a hundred ideas and still not want to write a single word. This stage of my life is called being lost. I decided to document it on this very site because I know that I will be found again and I’m going to look back at this stage and laugh.
But I have hate in my heart and that’s never good for any writer. Writer’s need to write.
So I wrote.