I pounded out my frustrations on an innocent jar of Justin’s Almond Butter. After spending thirty minutes staring at a blank word document, I found myself messing around in the kitchen. Anger began to boil, along with a pot of stress relief Yogi tea, when I couldn’t quite understand why I kept backspacing everything I had typed thus far.
Maybe it was the perfectionist in me. If every word didn’t move rhythmically like two beautiful bodies in dancing motion, then I couldn’t bare for others to read such a two left-feet tragedy of my own doing.
Maybe it was the level of fear in me. Filling the blank spaces of a page with my sporadic thoughts seemingly equals exploring a dark abyss. I fear what I’ll find.
I put away my computer with hopes that I’d find a bit of otherworldliness hidden deep within my writing core and that’s how I found myself blending together the almond butter that had separate after weeks of being unused.
Curled up on the couch with a bowl of sliced green apples drizzled with almond butter and honey in hand, I wickedly stared at my computer. Just the thought of lifting the screen pissed me off. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing those stupid wiggly lines under every misspelled word.
I’m in a haste to get this down, Word. Caring to spell properly is not of my concern.
Plus, my delete button is doing this weird thing where it annoyingly sticks. I guess that’s what constant abuse of the button does.
It was clear. Technology was cramping my inspiration to write and being confined within the walls of my apartment caged my spirit.
Now, I find myself outside, sitting on a concrete surface with the sky above me. One ass cheek is asleep and the other in pain, but I’ve found my otherworldliness.
It was just a piece of paper and pen away.