Dear Writing,
It's been a while. How have you been?
I've been...it's been difficult. I can't say I didn't think about you. I've been busy. That's what I've been telling people and trying to convince myself.
I wanted to be with you a lot. I thought about bringing you with me on my morning commute but felt embarrassed. I wanted to be with you when I got home each day and vent but I told myself that wasn't enough. That's not a "real" way to be with you.
But here I am again. The typing on a blank screen, the words coming to mind and appearing on the page. The feeling that maybe just maybe, this is how we should be. Together.
You are so hard to be with. When I try to spend every day with you, I get bored, annoyed. You frustrate me. You make me lose my motivation. You mock me with your stark white blankness while I search for something, anything to say.
Yet -
I miss you. When you aren't with me, I feel lost. I feel like I'm searching for something that is a part of myself. It's like thinking about how you need to call that friend one morning, and getting home and forgetting you said tonight was the night you'd do it.
You help me think clearly. You help me see differently. You help me realize what's actually going on in my head. You help me remember. You help me move on.
You are a difficult one to love but I'll keep doing it anyway.
I'll be seeing you,
Writer in Progress
