Wack for the Mac

I am back baby, maybe?
With a desk I picked up off the street and a new computer, I still have not gotten over my months of writers block. I want to be, I want to get home, peel off my greasy jeans and try not to wince at my hat hair, and just sit down at my imaginary chair and write about my day, all the things I want to learn about, and continue to stress about. But lately, I lack motivation, I lack a lot of things, except an exceptional need to watch criminal minds and sleep away my afternoons. 
I still don't have much to say, much to think about except for missing things. I miss you, I miss the happiness that came without effort. It was a way to live, a way that took no extra thought, because it just happened. And maybe that is why I haven't written, because I don't want to sound repetitive, depressed, I don't want to sound like this life isn't happy. Because I am happy. It just takes a lot more work than it used to. I don't want to write about love, because I don't know how I remember it, I don't want to stay cooped up, scared to make a choice. But if I choose to, 
At least my room is clean. 

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