Grace Zukus

Some things are hard to write. Some things, no matter how talented of a writer you may be, simply cannot be written, or rather will never be written properly. We experience life first-hand yet, some things are hard to recall. We know what we want to say, but when we go to say it, we cannot find the words. It’s not writer’s block, it’s different because some things you feel with such depth of your soul they can only be felt, not written or told. Some things are hard to write. This is one of them. I wake up with the same knot in my stomach that I have when I go to sleep. It does not shock me, the only thing that shocks me these days is when the knot disappears. I can’t move. An invisible weight pushes me into my mattress. It urges me to stay in bed. It whispers to me, telling me that the world will be fine without me today. It speaks softly, as if it has the power to comfort me. It knows that the thought of the day does nothing more than make me sick. I have to remember to breathe. I have to remind myself I am alive. I have to remember that it is good that I am here. I get up.