Aug 10
Fiona Ella's picture

disorganized thoughts

i've been back for exactly a week. 
one week of sitting at home watching television,
listening to music,
and trying to convince myself i'm writing. 
one week of driving on the wrong side of the road
and pricing things in pounds
when they should be dollars. 
one week of feeling like what little self-confidence i gained
dribble down the drain and away. 
one week of constant reminders to do my precourse work. 
i'm not sleeping well.
it's been so hot, 
you lay down at night and doze in bursts until morning, 
willing yourself not to look at the clock. 
my mother insists i'm jetlagged. 
i never heard of anyone staying jetlagged for a week. 
one of my dad's friends offered to read my television series scripts.
he's a screenwriter, he's produced some things
and even though this is what i wanted--
to be taken seriously--
i don't know if i deserve it. 
i still haven't told my best friend. 
the last time i told her that someone who wasn't my mother or her was going to read them, 
she shut down. 
it's not her fault she gets jealous
and it's just that i haven't wanted to talk about it. 
i don't know what to say. 
my rational mind is, as always, 
at war with the fantastical one.
the one which envisions it on the air a year from now, 
and myself in some ambiguous job
minimally managerial yet still allowing me to write everything
at the helm. 
my parents are sort of sick of hearing me moan
about this. 
first i wanted to be taken so seriously,
for my writing to be evaluated like it hadn't been written by a fifteen-year-old. 
but it is, 
in fact, 
written by a fifteen-year-old. 
how seriously does it deserve to be taken? 
besides... 
what if i lose interest? 
it's happened to me so many times before. 
i see the writing is juvenile, 
clumsy. 
i see what's wrong, 
and i have no idea how to fix it. 
i guess that's why you get feedback...
aren't you supposed to be able to handle feedback, 
though? 
in the past week my quarter teaspoon of garnered independence
went down the bathtub drain and i went back
to hugging myself when i speak
to reading disapproval into every glance. 
and i don't want to complain
and i know that in the grand scheme,
a week is a short time
and the screenplays won't warrant all this fuss, 
i just have too many thoughts in my head
and it's been long enough i'm not sure how to write them anymore. 

i know this is very complainy. i'm sorry. i'm not even in a very complainy mood, it just sort of came out that way. i just had some vague thoughts i wanted to get out, not really sure if i even succeeded, but...