Force It Out

I have been so upset at the state of my affairs...the state of the economy...the discrimination that is ever present in the state I reside...the impending 1 year anniversary that hangs over my head like a cloud of doom, that I haven't been able to write. I have little desire to scratch the surface of my bitterness, my anger, my fear, my grief. I feel like if I start writing or talking or yelling or crying, I may never stop. So instead, I stuff my emotions to a place so deep inside me that they can never be found. They may surface like small lava bubbles at unexpected times. At a movie theater when I slouch in the darkness sucked into someones life for 120 minutes, on the freeway when my radio is broken and I am forced to sit in complete silence on the 134 with only my thoughts to listen to, when I pass a retired man on the street and he stands with closed eyes and work gloves in his pocket holding a sign that reads Please Help: Need Work To Pay My Bills.
"Force it out," K instructs from the desk next to mine. So I will. None of this is coming naturally. It doesn't pour from my veins the way it used to...my muse has vanished. I thought I saw her walking on the street in Hollywood the other night, but I quickly realized she was just a figment of my imagination. A girl I invented to get lost in, to fulfill my narcissistic desire to fill the page with my own thoughts. I know now that she is forever gone and my life is forever changed, so for now I will do what K said...I will force it out.