I Guess We’re Cool

What do I write when I have nothing to write?

Do I even have that many things to say? They tell us to write what you know but what are you supposed to do when you feel as though you know nothing? Write nothing? I guess writing can be done, even if this piece of writing means nothing to me. I mean, I am the one that says not everything must mean a whole awful lot.

Would it be worth thinking that you sabotage yourself when you manifest perfectionism? I know it’s no sweat to write a whole piece of junk. I see plenty of junk floating by each day. How’s the airtime for all the air?

I’m sorry air, that’s rude of me. You’re important.

A lot of the air on the internet is, in my opinion, not.

I could redeem not knowing what to write into a story about someone I’m unfamiliar with. Someone I might think I know. Because surely I know something, someone, somewhere, that has at least a nothing to do with me. Surely there is someone else out there to think about instead of myself. So here’s me trying to not me, completely. Because some days I’d prefer not to be me. Not in sad way. A different side of me. Me from the other side of the room. I’m leaning up against a wall. What do they have to say? I can channel someone else and still be me. I’ll ask someone else what to write when I feel like I have nothing to write. But from this point on I can’t get in trouble for what I say because someone else is talking. And if you get hit then it’s your oooown fault.

Consider this my own genre of writing. Pretending to be someone else. I wouldn’t say I’m role playing. I’m sharing. Sharing the air time.

This person believes that you can turn nothing into something. It was never really nothing. They don’t mind an obstacle. This person is right handed. This person has a someone that makes them forget the time when they’re together. I don’t recall having one of those people. This person doesn’t feel the need to stress about things that haven’t even been close to happening yet. Like the possibility of crashing and burning. This person doesn’t crave copious amounts of food at one o’clock in the morning. They might. They do. But at least they don’t act upon the cravings like you know who. This person has tea parties underwater. They can breathe there. They forget they’re breathing just like we do. At least that’s how it sounds when they describe it. When they are there, there is an unfaltering noise that is white. The tea cups glide and unravel themselves all the way to the bottom. They shrink and this person never worries about where or when the teacup’s end is up. This person could not even fathom the concept of being worried about one’s teacup. It was never their’s in the first place. This person knows that everything you lose or misplace comes around in another form. This person never forgets when there is a full moon. So I don’t have to try and remember. This person isn’t someone I want to be. Because I am this person if I want to be. Somewhere. And this person likes that somewhere when I go there. I know we’re cool. And I know you know the things you want to know. You do write what you know. Sometimes you just have to get acquainted with someone on the other side to know the knows.