leap day

by rachel

it’s been so long since i’ve written. the process is beginning to feel foreign and realizing that scares me.

it’s strange, i’m confused. i’ve felt so much and so acutely over the past few months but haven’t had the urge to transfer all or any of that into writing.

looking back on pieces that i’ve written before and that i felt proud of at the time, i can see why they mattered to me but i no longer feel like i can write that way. i’ve always enjoyed a style of writing that is lyrical, emotive and evocative. but above all i treasure honesty in writing and i feel like i don’t know how to write in a way that encapsulates all of those traits.

to encourage the lyricism, i find that i drowned out half of who i am to paint my world as a more beautiful version of itself (even if tragically so). i don’t want to do that anymore?? i can’t do that anymore?? i think back on the selves that i inhabited when i used to write and they feel like drugged states. i no longer want to write in those states but i want to write nevertheless. it’s hard figuring out how to get there.

i want to be able to write in a way that is coarse but still beautiful, i want my writing to be able to permit oppositions and contradictions, to welcome them and encourage them. even now as i try to explain this it all sounds a little phony, i really don’t know how to get to where i want to be with my writing anymore.

for months i’ve been waiting for myself to ‘feel like writing’ and to know what to write about, how to write it but i’m so tired of just waiting. i’m going to begin making an active effort to figure this out and find my way there i suppose. i really don’t want to just give up.