I've been M.I.A. lately.
It's easy to say I've been busy. Or tired. Or troubled.
It's easy to say a litany of things. All of them true.
But what it isn't easy to say...is that I have absolutely nothing to say. About anything. Maybe for the first time in my life.
In recent weeks I've dealt with my diagnosis. I've attempted to come to terms with my impending surgery. I've faced work headaches and personal woes. I've scouted countless houses for the upcoming move. I've made infrequent but definitive strides toward the completion of my thesis.
I've read stories that broke or touched my heart. I've even written some that, at least for the moment, piqued my interest.
In light of these developments, you'd think I'd be brimming with a cacophony of things to say.
But I am at a loss.
Perhaps I've lost my words to the stress. Or to acknowledging just how terrible (or tedious) some people can be.
I cannot pinpoint the cause. And while that should sadden me, I haven't the words to articulate it.
I haven't any words at all.
Some call this writer's block.
I usually call it depression. Or stress. The two are pretty dependent on each other anyway.
But today I figured I'd muster the one iota of creativity I have to blatantly bogart someone else's intellectual property.
Today, I will not acknowledge my stress or depression. I will not acknowledge the truth - that I've completely given up lately.
Today, I will instead introduce you to a new term I have concocted:
Named for the Disney character that I do not own/cannot claim rights to/will steal regardless, my term refers to those times in life where you are so low - so physically and psychologically drained that leaving the bed for the bathroom seems like an excruciating effort - that you simply cannot say something nice.
And, as we all know, if you can't bring yourself to say something nice, you're better off saying nothing at all.