I haven’t been writing lately. I was worried that it was because I now have a job that requires me to be a writer all day, but I don’t think it’s that – I produced some good stuff my first week. I think it’s my skin.
What? How could it be my skin you ask? It can. It’s draining the life out of me. I don’t sleep through the night, I’m constantly distracted because either I’m crazily itchy or my body temperature is going nuts, making me ridiculously uncomfortable, or I’m too busy trying to tend the ever changing conditions of my face that I have little to no time to do much else.
I miss writing. It saddens me that my last post was at the beginning of this month. I’ve thought of so many good thing to write (including a chronicle of what it’s like being in my skin – yes, pun intended – for a day), but I just haven’t been able to focus on something long enough to get it done. And when I have a moment of clarity, I find I have to spend it on something responsible like cooking or cleaning rather than on creative release.
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Dear Skin,
Can’t we just be friends again?
melody
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