Post NaNoWriMo Blues

Words stuck in my throat

Like the popcorn I just ate.

I am not inspired,

But I want to be.

Finished a novel in less than 20 days.

As I crossed the finish line,

It was 2:15 PM.

No one was home

Except me

And the cats

There are 3.

Writing this

Reminds me of writing poetry in high school

Which I did because I was always heartbroken over some

Stupid

Boy.

I kind of hate poetry…unless I like it.

When it rhymes,

I kind of want to give it the middle finger.

I also hate country music,

And Broadway musicals.

Middle finger to both.

Please don’t judge me,

Or be offended.

Writing and publishing—

It’s a business like any other—

Some YA lit I wonder, “Why?”

And no—

I’m not referring to Twilight.

I mean, come on,

Cold-blooded, dark-haired, golden-eyed guys?

Every girl's dream

I get it.

Been at this since 23 years old.

So

Makes sense that I feel irritable, angry, angsty—

My writing journey is 14 years old.

An irritable, insecure know-it-all freshmen,

Which was my single most mortifying year of high school.

I was fat.

I got dumped.

My grades were shit.

Although I am not fat,

No one has dumped me,

And grades don’t matter any more,

I still feel like a freshman at this.