I Don't Know how to Title This.

i don't want to write today, but i feel like i should.
i really want to admit that i have a "writer" mind.
because that's what i've been told.
i try to tell myself this as well, that i have the excellence and contour of a writer, that calm, peaceful way of thought that they have.
i wish i could say that my mind is unique and wise and different; that i know so much because of the way i can fit my sentences together and because of how i use of words.

when i think about all of that,
i just want to cringe.
because i don't find myself to be the "all seeing eye".

i've been fighting so much to be the "writer" that people find me to be.
not to copy a sentence or letter from someone close i know, but hey, writing is all just reiterating circumstances, just with a different hand and pen. it's the same stupid words on the same stupid paper, and like all writers, i will do the same.

Dear Fight,
i'm not used to having my eyes open, so please stop tormenting me and let me rest.
let me be held instead of rushing around me like cold air, burning out my flame.
i'm sick of crying.
i'm sick of people trying to help, when in reality, they just keep making me remember something that i'm trying to distract myself from.
i don't want to admit the side effects to this.
but i already feel like this empty feeling, this always near tears, and this odd feeling of helplessness and hope at the same time are only a few side effects to this odd elation.
so fight, please just stop punching at me, hitting, scratching, torturing and playing with me.
because i'm tired. i want to be happy so stop preventing me from reaching that.
Sincerely,
The Pen without the Ink

i'm just a girl.
a girl that is going through the same difficulties that many have gone through.
even difficulties that her best friend has gone through.
i'm a girl that has reminders, similar to others.
reminders of the yawn when waking up in bed.
a long blue dress and a suit and tie, the tie half done and the dress at the thigh.
making giant pancakes.
watching countless episodes of The Office, but technically listening, not watching.
"frolicking" in the park around a beautiful lake.
laughing because we kept getting "gutterballs".
the butter hands.
and many more reminders still ringing in the ears of my mind.

i'm so tired.
but the most exhausting thing is waiting.
and as much i don't want to, as annoying as this is,
those reminders just make me sit.
and the future makes me stand.
and i want to believe that in 9 weeks,
i'll be able to lay down.

with the thing that really makes me happy.