I sit in the dark and I overlook chrome.
Cold hard shells holding thousands hoping that being here will inject them with life.
I sit in front of a dated screen, blue light coming off of it, dinging me with responsibilities on the minute.
I quit.
I sit in front of the blank screen and try to come up with something beautiful.
I quit.
Whoever said writing was dignified was an asshole.
I want to do something important
Don’t we all?
I haven’t seen the ocean in years. I promised myself I would go but instead I bought things to make my face or my hair look better, and those things ate up at the beach and the sun and the waves.
And I gave most of it away, because it only felt good to get it, not to have it.
I quit.
Even now in the dark while I am still doing it I quit.
We say it all the time.
So why not?
I am hoping that one day I discover something so beautiful and so true that it makes the sitting and the waiting and the wanting and the hoping all worthwhile.
I am hoping.
I quit.

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<a Resist