I’ve been sitting here for ages just staring at the curser that blinks in anticipation of something being typed onto this blank page. That curser. Blinking so patiently. I wish I knew how many hours I’ve spent over the past week just staring at it with my hands poised and ready to type. Somehow, the words never did find the way from my brain to my fingertips until now.
The past week is a blur. I’ve poured myself into my jobs, my homework, anything that keeps me busy. When I’m busy, I don’t even think about the things bothering me. They’re gone. Nonexistent. My mind is free and uncluttered. When night comes, however, it’s a different story. Everything comes rushing back as I lie in bed waiting begging for the one thing that grants me full release for hours—sleep.
I analyze, I overthink, and I replay every conversation in my mind. I go over everything I said and did, wondering if I was wrong or if I overreacted. But in all honesty, I can’t see myself pretending like it was all okay. What did I learn from all of my analyzing? I learned that I came across angry, mad, and bitter which is how I hide all of the swirling thoughts that are really going on inside.
Am I mad at you? No. I’m not angry either. I’m just hurt. I made you a priority and I was beginning to feel like I was your option. I think I have every right to be angry, upset, or mad right now. Even though it might be hard to believe, I’m not any of those. I feel nothing. And it’s odd to feel nothing. No pain, no worry, no wondering. Maybe there’s a twinge of sadness, but it’s not the kind that draws tears. I’ve really perfected this practice of not showing emotion. I’ve perfected it so much that I rarely even show it to myself.
So now the blinking cursor has moved towards the bottom of the page. It’s still waiting for more words to be typed, but I’m at the point where I need to make a decision. Do I want to end this page or continue on? I could continue to drag it on by staring at it, wishing I’d phrased something differently, or trying to add more words. On the other hand, I could start a new, blank page that is full of potential. And frankly, I love the idea of that so much better. So come on, little blinking cursor, I have a whole new story to create.