Maybe I should really quit running

It took me fourteen years to turn the cover page 

and read Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. 

I could never get past the note to me 

'For Katy, Our dear friend 

and budding writer." 

Why would you say something so nice? 

I know you mean well 

but compliments freeze us in a moment. 

I never attempted to write. 

It could bring riches. 

I couldn't have that. 

Have platitudes thrown at me 

because I did something. 

Something anyone else could do. 

Something others, not myself, 

could succeed at. 

I've failed over and over again. 

It's an old friend. 

I've failed by being here fourteen years later 

contemplating kindness.

I am so concerned with my voice, 

my word choices. 

Concerned about opinions good and bad 

but mostly good. 

Negativity feeds and supports me, 

it's easy to digest. 

Goodness is rich and fatty 

it sits on you in a way anyone should despise. 

It clings to you in an effort to keep you warm. 

It cares little for anything but your comfort. 

And why? 

Because it knows you're cold and need to warm up. 

It tries to stay, 

to be a familiar friend 

but you run from it. 

Lacing up your shoes

you run out the door. 

Tell yourself that's what you are now 

a runner.

You're free, you've quieted the voices. 

Positive words can't catch you.

Fast enough you can't even see the trees 

let alone take in the world. 

No need for positivity here on your own path 

with an empty head, 

It's easy to run, 

it's hard to sit still. 

Why would I sit to hear the sounds of others? 

The noise of wounds and hurt.

My skin is hardened 

and thin around a fragile frame, 

there is not much to me. 

And the fat hurts. 

The comfort is uncomfortable. 

I know there are things I want to say 

but words beget words. 

I don't want to listen.

I can't take more. 

Where am I supposed to put it? 

Am I really meant to open up and chew? 

Swallow the fatty, salty, rich, umami of compliments. 

Can I sprinkle it with the worn-down soles of my sneakers? 

Can I reduce the calorie count? 

Maybe run while you run after me. 

Maybe if I'm far enough away I can't hear you whisper. 

Why I'll never start a blog

I heard once somewhere that there are too many types of mustard. Just hear me out on this. So there are too many types of mustard and it all started with Grey Poupon. When your brain had once conjured a singular image at the term now it plays a near-infinite list of types and uses. Yellow, grainy, powdered, hotdogs, pretzels, ham. There are truly more options than a human being can handle.

The internet is like the condiment aisle. Overrun with potential options. How do I know black pepper is the best choice when there is also red, pink, and grey. How can I decide if the hosting platform will enhance the flavor of my dish. Writing like eating is both neccessary yet overwhelming, often impeded by infinite options.

Nowadays if you want to share your writing you must be willing to spend the time researching where exactly to put those words you just threw up. I started by searching for a free outlet, all I wanted was to put some thoughts out there. Nothing huge or monolithic, just a few prose. But the unending possibilities nearly stopped me from sharing. I got frustrated when I realized there is no way to truly, freely, share one's self with the world. Not unless you don't care about people hearing you. So I bought a domain and chose a place to host it, I picked a preset design because Im too tired and broke to even contemplate learning a new language. So for $2.05 a month I own my name in domain form. Now I do not actually pay per month since that was just marketing. I paid it all up front. And there were extra costs tagged on but Im too technically unaware to opt out of those supposedly necessary extras.

Now here I am. The lonely hole created by not sharing started swallowing me whole so I decided it was worth handing over my hard spent time disguised as money so I can write for an audience of more than me. I don't want to give advice on being more productive or writing better prose. Everything I know about anything I've learned from youtube and Klutz. I have no unique knowledge that isn't purely my opinion, and we all know what that's worth. No Im not here to help you de-clutter your wardrobe or make chewier cookies or overhaul your life and start a-new. I'm here to share words. To be my own voice in a sea of positivity and self given superlatives. I want to be me as much as one can in this literal 'sell yourself' world. I've spent a long time censoring myself but now I think I'll give google a chance.