On Emptiness and Writing.

"I wanted to touch him so bad it hurt. I didn't want feelings like that. I'd never wanted them, but I hadn't known - I hadn't known how they really felt. I'd never let myself know what it was to want someone and know they want you too. It's a terrible feeling, makes you open yourself up, expose all the soft places you wish you didn't have. It makes you hope."
           --Elizabeth Scott, "Love You, Hate You, Miss You"

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To be honest, I have been feeling somewhat empty lately, for various reasons, all of which are probably petty and inconsequential, but the feeling is there all the same. And when I feel too empty to talk and too physically broken to dance, like I do now, I fill the void with books.
So, today, I sat and read all day, and once I started Love You, Hate You, Miss You, I couldn't stop. I didn't expect it to be like that, didn't expect to feel a literal ache in my chest as I read. It was beautiful, it made me want to cry, but perhaps more importantly, it made me want to write. I miss the days where I filled the emptiness with words; words used to be a way of life for me, and now, I can rarely find them in conversation, let alone a piece of paper or a Word document.
Earlier today, before I even began reading Love You, Hate You, Miss You, I decided I was going to try writing something longer and more substantial than a blog post for once. And now, I know that I'll keep that promise to myself. A main character is beginning to take shape in my head; I'm just waiting for her to tell me her story.