I know I should be asleep. But it's finals week and I don't think I'd be a college student if I actually went to bed on time so I decided to stay up even though I've finished my final of the night.
I should be revising my creative writing poem and nonfiction story. I should be studying for Spanish. I should be filling out my Psych review sheet. Or working on the paper. Or washing my clothes. Or doing ANYTHING but this.
But of course, here I am.
I used to write every day.
Sometimes twice a day.
I used to have things to say.
What happened to it all? Why is it that I now only write about 4 times in a month? When did I lose that depth? When did I stop having things I felt needed to be said? When did I decide being quiet was a good option?
I miss that part of me.
I miss the part of me that was so happy. I miss the part of me that was so sad.
I don't like this in-between Maren. She's too indecisive. She doesn't know if she's happy or sad or what. It's rather annoying. I want her to make up her mind and be either all sad or all happy. Non of this bittersweet feeling anymore. Because this feeling provides no solace in writing. So it stares at blank pages and dreams of words covering them and people commenting on them. Like these blank pages used to be. So full of life.
I wonder what I'm doing here. And why I'm not there. And if I'm in the wrong place entirely.
Maybe Pocatello, ID isn't right for me. Maybe BYU I is. Or Utah State. Or... you know, anywhere else.
I'm feeling rather stuck.
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