Dear P. Lea Sedontre Adme,

So I felt like it was time to admit that there's something terribly wrong.

...I can't write. I know I said I'd let the little things go. ...Along with the big things. But I'm sure that the fact that I can't write is neither here nor there, so I am not just gonna let this go, I am going to do the exact opposite of letting go. That is I'm going to take this issue-thing-whatever and I'm going to keep it for as long as humanly possible. Yeah that's right I'm not gonna let it go I'm gonna keep it like a beekeeper keeps bees and I'm gonna steal honey from it or wait that was Eddie Izzard's bit, yeah ok, whatever, I'm just going to overdramatize this and make the issue-thing-whatever bigger than how it really is and then I'll write in run-on sentences, whilst getting sidetracked here and there, which is how I get when I overdramatize and make an issue-thing-whatever bigger than how it really is, when I really should have just let it go.

If I was actually saying this out loud, right around here is where I take a long needed deep breath after having talked really really really fast with no pauses that I'd actually have appeared a little blue right by the end of my litany of sorts and then I'll proceed on to say that the worst part about me not being able to write is that I know that I want to, like you know you'd probably want to stop reading by now, 'cause this is going to take a while. Or like you know that the sky is blue except in the UAE where the sky is actually beige, which is weird. Or like you know how the pyramids are located in Cairo, and seriously, if you didn't know that, I really don't know you, 'cause dude, I knew that when I was seven years old. So I mean, c'mon are you seriously going to let seven-year-old Danabelle kick your butt at History errr Geography ... Or whatever subject it is that would require you to study where the pyramids were.

So yes... Sadly, I believe I have lost my sauce. If you've known me for more than two seconds, you would know that "sauce" is what I like to call my writing mojo. The term was derived from being "sauced-up" or in simple terms "drunk out of your wits". Not that I drink when I write, it's just that most of what I write may seem like I was probably inebriated when I wrote them, which is not to say that it's a bad thing. It's a great thing. I mean, Edgar Allan Poe was an amazing writer with a lot of sauce, but he was literally and actually drunk out of his wits. Or Lewis Caroll who I always thought was an old lady for some reason. Don't ask me why.

I feel that I should try writing poetry again. But I don't want to be absurdly pretentious. It would just seem too awkward. I can actually hear the crickets chirping. Seriously, though, I would give the "I'm busy" thing a whirl, but I think I've really done all I can do with that. Besides, who am I kidding, I'm really not that busy. I mean, sure, all my days are full until March, but ... Yeah yeah, I'll drop it already.

Oh well... Goshdarnit, I can't even wrap up a simple letter like I used to. You know, like repeating whatever I started with so that it would go full-circle and fit into that whole circular writing pattern thing that I do... What? You mean, I seriously haven't done it in so long that you can't remember how it went.

Tsk.

There's something terribly wrong. I can't write. ...And I just can't let it go.


As Always,
D.