Words Have Never Upset Me So

... That is, until now.

Off the bat, I can't begin to explain what had happened from the hours of 1am to 6am. Truly, if I knew, I would not have fussed for 5 hours about my personal writing style.

But I suppose it all began once I clicked on the link "Publish Post." Just as my thumb struck the Touch-Pad of my laptop, my mind suddenly went blank. Such a scene would have been portrayed in a film as a sudden desertion of color from a room, with white, almost-insane walls that continue at every possible angle. This blankness, this emptiness was soon disturbed, in my mind, by a simple question that reverberated on the virgin walls: "What did I just do?"

As silly as this may sound now, that question shook my very core. It was that quake that ensued 5 long hours of self-criticism and self-loathing.

From the age of 12, I had already accepted that writing, in its essence, was indeed not for me. Analytical reading, class discussions, all of that I could handle and perhaps even enjoyed. But in-class, timed writing became my biggest academic fear. A planned, uninterrupted monologue that, at many times, contained beneath its blank ink and lined edges, my very heart with which I answered the prompt. Unless the prompt was completely muddled and thus a bullshit answer was to be had.

I suppose it wasn't until 12th grade, senior year, the year I decided to join Academic Decathlon, when the idea of timed writing didn't pose some scholastic peril. Practice was indeed necessary to settle my nerves, to get my thoughts organized, to allow my voice to flow fluidly from mind, to hand, to paper. Perhaps I had enough practice, being able to bring in medals in the Essay portion during both Regional and State competitions. But timed writing wasn't the only monster I had to face that year.

As many seniors would now, the 12th and final year of high school also brings about the dreaded College Application Period. Ugh. Even the mere words chill. And so it was, hour upon waking hour brought about essay after essay. And it was with one in particular that I felt most proud.

Perhaps, I thought, I don't suck at writing all that much.

Until 1am this morning. I suppose it would be almost impossible for me to explain the fear that had struck at such a deep hour in the morning. I mean, how can I expect you, a mere reader, to understand the ongoings within my mind? So with all due respect, I must confess that I don't.

But you know what? It's ok. Because in the end, none of this really matters as I smile sheepishly amongst the warm presence of my dearest friends.

Besides, who the hell would really speak like this in common conversation? Really.

And with that, I'm ready to start the day with a nap.