I have run out of things to write about


Addy Cousins

A picture of me in Florida over spring break on of the events that broke up my dull yet content lifestyle

I’m sitting in my third hour. I should be studying for the exam tomorrow, but my mind is full of other classes, and mostly with a question: what on earth can I write about? 

There is no new sadness engulfing my every waking movement; there is no insane joy flopping through the meadow of my brain, and there is nothing fully mundane. My life is nearly entirely balanced. Who wants to read about that?

I go to school, get decent grades, go to track and perform decently well in my three events, go home and have a good conversation with my family, and then sit in my room; not bored, just simply content. How can five hundred words flow from my brain to my fingers, to the Google Doc I’m currently staring at, from my mundane life? 

Obviously, there has been some excitement in my past few weeks, but they can’t fight the dulling contentment of my life—not enough has occurred to write about. 

To be honest, being content is boring. I don’t look forward to the morning or to the afternoons filled with school; I am waiting for something exciting. Everyone is waiting for something—currently summer. So why should I be the one to write about it? 

I love writing, but as the days toward the big exam and summer wind down, I don’t want to write. My head is full of my summer dream: laying on the beach, ice cream, long boat rides, and driving the four-wheeler with the music blasting and my best friend next to me. I suppose I could write about my hopes and dreams for summer, but there simply isn’t enough to fill the page, and nothing I could write would be different than any other high school student’s thoughts; so, again I ask: what can I write about? 

If I can’t come up with something to write about, maybe I should stop. Yet I know I can never stop writing, whether it is on The Central Trend or writing random letters to my friends or myself, writing is a huge part of my life. So why is it so hard to come up with a topic? 

I have more to say—there are more words to write—don’t I? 

Yet I know I can never stop writing, whether it is on The Central Trend or writing random letters to my friends or myself, writing is a huge part of my life.

Well, it is not like someone else can answer this question for me. I have to continue to write and figure out what I want to say and how to write my thoughts. It is difficult, and as of now, I will accept that I have no topic, for now, I have nothing to write, but still I can spew the most random of thoughts down on a fresh Google Doc. 

Writing is integral to who I am, and so, even though I don’t have a topic, I will continue to write, write, and write. I don’t need a topic to continue doing the one thing in my life that isn’t a monotonous bore. So as I wait for summer, as I study for my next big exam, as I am content in my room, I will remind myself that just because no one asked, I can write anything and everything.