NOTHING
BY WALLACE CALEB BATES
I sat down to write tonight, and nothing came. Not because I do not have things to say.
I do. I am just not sure how to say them. My head is full, but the words are not lining up. Maybe it is because I am tired.
Perhaps it is because I have felt a lot this week: gratitude, uncertainty, pressure, and affirmation. I have not had a moment to untangle it all.
It is strange to be someone who usually knows how to tell the story and not know where to start.
Still, I showed up, so that has to count for something.