Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!
Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
There is no sadness in it - merely a sense of resignation. It wears on you like water; you can shake it off, but in the long run it will wear you down. Carve canyons through the softer parts of you. So, listen to the rain and try to just breathe. You will be sick, inside and out. You will suffer, and there will be no dignity in the suffering. You will be human, and sometimes you will not be able to rise to the occasion.
You crinkle your nose, repelled by the smell. You cross streets to avoid confrontation. You are in the fallout bunker of your mind, silently tallying canned goods. You can never be too prepared. You can never be fully ready. You have to accept these things. This is no time for giving yourself the benefit of the doubt.
Slogging through the rain, you will chuckle and shake your head. Try to tell stories to folks long dead. You can't help yourself - you grant yourself these superstitions. It's only fair. Things are complicated, and you need to find some kind of grip.
The darkness surrounds you, but you don't make a sound. You hang your head just a little bit lower. Your neck hurts just a little bit more. You move slower. You wonder where the real you went. All of this is a waste of time. The train is being driven by a blind conductor. Or maybe he can see? Just has blinders on? You'll have to ride it out to know for sure, so suck it up buttercup.
The poison is no worse than the cure.
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...