I’m not one to have writer’s block, but the past few months I’ve been caught in what feels like a concrete bucket where the words slap around the unforgiving walls, breaking up just as they start to make sense.
One would think by now I would have rounded up a proper tribute to the one and only Hippie Chick. But, I can’t seem to, as the saying goes, “wrap my head around it.” I just don’t feel up to it although the “feelings” are almost overwhelming.
Over the course of the past few months, I’ve probably let just about everyone down. The neighbor, the long-time friend, the family, the co-worker, the little “sister” – I just don’t have it in me right now to offer much in the way of me. And, when you feel this way, people get angry with you. The human condition is at best, a frail one. When you’re a tad out of sorts, everything feels amplified tenfold. I think of it as just a symptom of the times we’re living in; everyone anxious, spiraling from one social media message to the next.
I also try my best to not take anything personally. However, the fact is, I’m a pleaser. That’s not likely to change, despite my best efforts to not care, to tune it out, to just move on and leave it all in that proverbial rear view mirror.
I miss having Hippie Chick to hang out with as I’ve pulled down the curtains. I miss the purr, the comfort of knowing that the fat fur ball is simply there.
As I write this, I hope the words come back. For now, I’ll take what makes sense now and rejoice in the words splattering back from the concrete wall.