A friend of mine asked me on a whim if I could write something for four girls, where everyone had a distinct voice an could be made on a nonexistent budget. After two years, four drafts and two edits, it’s finally done. I’ve learnt a lot from it and since it, but nothing beats the feeling of knowing you helped make something. I’m proud. Check it out!
Every single day is the same. Every single day. Every single one. The exact same. The words are different. Yes. The words are different, sometimes. Sometimes, the tone. But the feelings- The feelings. The feelings don’t change. The feelings are always, always the same. Same depth, same breadth, same place. I return to that same place, same bristling-
Even the clothes are the same. The steps I take in my shoes. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right, trip over own leg, right. Is that right? The exact same thing- everyday? Why are we here? Why am I here? What do I want? Why does this matter?
I don’t think any of this matters. I don’t think anything matters. We only care about the things we care about because…because they give us something. Meaning. Meaning? Is that what I mean? I don’t know. But I know that I don’t care about anything the way you do. I don’t think I know how. I don’t think I can let myself. Let myself feel-
Shush. Shush now. That was almost too much. You’re starting to feel…that was entirely too much.