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The clock says its 09:42am; I best drag myself out of bed.
Oh but I don't want to...No I must.
I need caffeine; lots and lots of caffeine...
OK. Today is the day I'm going to write this bloody poem.
It'll be amazing, awe-inspiring, glorious.
It'll rival the works of Shakespeare.
There will be PhDs...about this poem.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I got nothing. Absolutely nothing. Zilch. Nada.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Oh My God! I am the worst writer in the history of writing.
I can't think of anything. I have nothing to say. I suck!
Wait a second. There's a huge pile of clothes on my bedroom floor,
Maybe if I wash them, something brilliant will occur...
Right, clothes are on the line; drying. Let the writing commence.
Hmm. Its 12:43.
Obviously, no great works of genius have ever been constructed on an empty stomach,
I'll get something to eat then I'll start writing again...
Hmmm. Those who invented the sandwich toaster; I salute you.
Well, now I can't write and eat; that would be ridiculous.
I'll watch an episode of Game of Thrones then I'll start writing again.
That was epic, but I'm still digesting. One more episode then I'll start writing again.
That was awesome, but there are only two episodes left in this season.
Maybe if I finish the season...No I can't, I need to write...
Then again, it can't hurt to treat yourself. I have been working really hard all day.
OK. I'll finish the season but then...I really have to do some writing.
Two more episodes later...
Its 17:26!!! When did that happen? I really need to do some writing now.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Oh come on. Something. Anything. Please.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Fine. If you'd rather stay a blank page, be my guest!
My masterpiece is too good for you anyway.
Please, tell me what you want. I'll do anything!
Look at me. I'm pleading with the remnants of what used to be a tree.
It has no consciousness, no secret agenda, no pearls of wisdom it's withholding from me.
I could tear it into pieces and it wouldn't scream.
I could pour water on it and it wouldn't drown.
Now it's 19:52 and I still haven't written anything.
Bake-Off will be on soon. I need a break.
Now it's 22:54; I'm too tired to write anything now.
It's hopeless. I'm going to bed.
Click. Zzz.
It's 09:43am; Today is the day I'm going to write this bloody poem.
But first, I need caffeine.
YOU ARE READING
I Need An Adult
PoetryA passionate journey through the roller-coaster of my mind as I grapple with the challenges of being a mature student, older sister, writer, and mental health survivor. I will be uploading a new poem every Friday.
