I hate writing. I hate doing it, I hate thinking about doing it, I hate showing anyone what I write.
I started doing an article for Odyssey every week because I thought it would be fun, which it was, for the first couple times. Then I realized I had nothing interesting to say or share and then it got hard. I spend hours trying to think up of something just barely useful and hating it. I willingly let myself plaster my name under some internet crap and I don't know why. Actually, I kind of do. Because I have nothing to say. Literally, nothing.
Politics? I hate seeing and hearing it wherever I go and I hate being stuck with absolute shit for the next four years. That's one of the biggest things going on in the world and that's all I have to say for it. I'm tired of seeing every single post about this damn election, and I know I'm not the only one.
I want to be able to contribute something meaningful and important, both of which I'm not familiar with. You're probably wondering "Meghan, if you hate writing so much, why do you keep doing it?" Well, hate to burst your bubble of questions with: I still don't know.
It's mostly a range of "I'm on the internet for doing something and that's cool," or "this will make me look better as a student," and especially "I have the chance to be able to write about anything I please and have everyone see it, why should I let that go?" That's the worst one, because that's exactly the reason I'm so mad. Having this chance of getting your words out there also comes with complete realization that you know nothing useful. I know some facts and dates; I could tell you about some philosophers, and random bits in between, but who wants to hear that?
I didn't even want to write this because people will probably think it's stupid or I'm crazy. "Girl Writes About How Much She Hates To Write." Yeah, that's smart.
The one thing I have to admit though, is that writing all of this felt amazing. I've been so sick of trying to find something at least kind of interesting enough to submit, and it's either that or my thoughts and feelings, but once again, who wants to hear that? I don't even want to hear that stuff.
So, this is probably the only time I'll ever "vent" or say what I actually think, besides why big boobs make my life hell. That one will always be from the heart.
Hopefully I'll find something better to write about next time.