My NaPoWriMo love affair

NaPoWriMo, forgive me. I love you deeply, madly, but I wish you were yesterday. I dream of sci-fi novels while you twist your literary lines around my fingers, jealous and cold. Your spare imagery no longer makes me shiver with anticipation. Instead, I have been sneaking sentences of prose: outlines, plots, characters trapped on alien planets. I know you suspect. I’ve been making excuses: oh, just another minute on Twitter. Five more on Facebook. Its just—your reckless alliteration has grown wearisome. Your line-breaks are sharp as thorns.

One spring, when I was young, for a whole month I snuck a teaspoonful of sugar after school while my mom was at work. The first two or three days: oh, such sweetness! My fifth grade fingers tingled with anticipation each time I snuck into the kitchen, certain I would be caught but so desperate for that sugary goodness I couldn’t stop. I loved biting at the stuff. Once I even put some in water and drank it like candy, but strangely, by day fourteen, the granules stuck in my throat. I tried sprinkling it on toast. On grapefruit. It just wasn’t the same. NaPoWriMo, you are sugar stuck in my mouth, bittersweet. Addictive. Can I handle sixteen more days of you?

I want to break your heart.