I don’t know what I’m writing.
I don’t know what it is going to be about.
And I am not going to edit it.
I am writing for 20 minutes. Because it is my assignment. But I can’t just write like some people. Taking a walk doesn’t exactly work for my brain to come up with ideas. Prompts are iffy. 
But I can write arguments
Serious things.
Like the climate crisis.
Or sillier things.
About the best place to get ice cream.

The worst book or TV show.

If Canada or Vermont has better maple syrup than the other.
I am quiet.

I can be louder. But sometimes I choose not to be. Not because I want to be.
I just am.
Tiredness can take over. Or sad and maddening things.

Tiredness can make my voice almost a whisper.
Almost.
Confusion. 
Sadness.
Madness.
The just why?
These are all feelings. Just feelings.
But sometimes, they can make the world mean something again.
Sometimes the air will feel thick.

You can feel a sudden movement will bring you back to yourself again.
But no.
Maybe.
You just have to feel.
If that makes sense.
It most likely doesn't.
But there.
I wrote over twenty minutes
No edits or anything.
What you can do with feeling, smells and tastes. 
You.
Can.
Write.