yikes

I wish I had already written something today.

I wish I had written something that I could be so proud of that I would look forward to editing it tomorrow.

I wish I could write something that would move you. You would say: “Wow! She really gets me. I wish I could write like that.”

I’d demurely shake my head and mumble: “Oh, that was so random! I can’t even believe I did that!”

Gosh. That whole fantasy is such a vomit.

I probably have one thousand wholesome fantasies about how I could be a writer who is excellent at writing. I would dodder around like an endearing female version of a Hugh Grant character while mumbling about how I’m so silly and didn’t even realize what a genius I am. It reeks of aggrandizement masquerading as self-effacing humor. Or, are those one and the same?

See? See why I didn’t want to write anything at all today?

I shouldn’t reveal how my fantasies about writing are unbearably cliché and how I’m simultaneously self-aware about it all. Yet, I’m still engaging in another cliché by telling you about how opposed to cliches I am. I really am not like the other girls, eh?

I think it would be cool to be an emo sometimes. Just in my feelings and moody out in public. Do any emo people ever wish they were like me? Like, is there some emo girl out there who is thinking about how it could be cool to be uptight and rigid and struggle with devastatingly low self-worth? That would be fun in a grass is greener on the other side kind of way. Maybe, we could have a Freaky Friday scenario and learn some life lessons over the course of ninety light-hearted minutes.

Anyway, I didn’t want to write any of this, but I did. And, I quite enjoyed writing it though not nearly enough to look forward to tomorrow. Now, all I have to do is acknowledge and resist my urge to tear it all to shreds.