#uhmuhyea

[uhmuhyea]

When I was a kid, like 9-14 maybe, I loved to write. I went to multiple writing retreats during the summer at a college near me, I wrote long stories in my free time, and proudly showed them off to my mom. My second grade teacher told my mom that someday, she was going to see a bestseller in the book store and she was going to recognize my name.

As I got older, I took AP English classes, I was always a grade ahead for my English class, and started taking college level English classes when I was still in high school. And I got burnt the fuck out.

I barely passed my AP English classes, not because I was getting poor grades/not understanding the material, but because I wasn't actually doing any of the assignments. Same with my other classes, both high school and college. I was just done.

I HATED writing essays. I still do, and even when I think of something that I would really like to read an essay about that I could feasibly research and write about (I've long been interested in the decline of wallpaper, use of waterbeds, and the history of the laugh track being used less in modern day sitcoms) and I get that old familiar feeling of dread and loathing ball up inside of me.

I used to love to write! I wouldn't have to be forced to do it, I would do it on my own free will, and I *liked* it! I genuinely enjoyed it! I loved to flesh out scenes in my head and put into words what I saw in my head.

And I don't feel that anymore.

I felt inspired to write a small scene just about a week ago (which does not happen often) and got out my laptop and started to type. And holy shit, it was difficult, and I did NOT enjoy the process. I doubt I even typed out half a page before I just stopped.

And that sucks. I just kept imagining the scene in my head, and pretty much gave up on writing it out. It was easier to just imagine it in my head, so I did.

Since roughly high school, maybe a little bit before, I don't think I've written any fiction that I wanted to write. It's all been essays on the driest of subjects. I mean, I guess I always took the subject and was able to twist it into something that I kind of wanted to write about.

But yeah, I'm sad that I don't love to write like I used to anymore and I blame school for that. Fuck you, school system, you did me dirty.

[uhmuhyea]

[uhmuhyea]

I've been on tumblr since before 2012 and only just this year have I made sideblogs, and let me tell you, fucking game changer.

Now, when I'm looking for something to show someone, or to reference something, I do t have to scroll through my main blog, in deep snow, uphill both ways. Now, I can categorize my posts into distinct blogs so that finding specific posts is sooooo much easier.

My specific blogs are:

Main blog (everything goes here, who gives a fuck, uhmuhyea™️ is a brand, a lifestyle, it's been my url so I first started here, you can try to pry it out of my cold dead hands, good luck

Words: I love quotes, and they can all go here.

Sexy Stuff: uhm, explains itself, right?

Useful references!!: excited about that one, always will be, now all those useful masterposts and how-to and DIY stuff can live rent free where I can find them.

Art stuff: just all the pretty things, when they really stir me, I can feel them inside, and one day want to hang them on the walls of my house

Animals: all the adorable and dumb shit animals do. I love it, even the happy sad stuff. Animals. We're all animals, baby, dontchu forget it

[uhmuhyea]

Baby, I miss you so goddamn much. I wish I could go with you to pick up Rowen, and go to your family event with you, and hold your hand, and have your arm around my waist, and hug you.

I'm trying to leave you alone today, I swear. Every time you don't answer a text from me is a knife in the heart, and every text I send that goes unanswered kills me a little more.

Baby, I miss you and love you so fucking much.

[uhmuhyea]

Please choose me. Please, pick me, over and over again, forever and ever

[uhmuhyea]

It wasn't that *you* weren't enough, or that *you* weren't doing enough...

My wounds weren't able to be fixed by you. I'm sorry, but there is no way you could have loved me into being better. I have to fix myself first

[uhmuhyea]

Just because I slept with someone else, and did start looking for somebody to fill my void after we broke up, doesn't make you any less special to me.

Those thoughts need to be divorced from each other.

[uhmuhyea]

Thank you for calling me, my love. It was very surprising to hear from you, but I'm so glad you called. I missed your voice so much, I miss talking to you so much.

It's been a month or so since we broke up. It's easier in some ways, and harder in others. I hate that I can't call you and talk to you like we used to talk. Just about how our days went, and stupid shit.

Remember when I first came over, and we were on your bed talking about Pocket of Pockets, our food truck? We were so silly, and laughing so much, I was so sure nothing could ever go wrong. But it did. It all went so wrong.