Humor takes a vacation
I’m trying to write something funny. Really I am.
Funny fills the heart.
Migraines are creativity killers. Got to find the funny again when the brain isn’t filled with so much empty pain.
What do you do when humor takes a vacation? Find out where it went, hunt it down, and kill it?
As if that’s ever going to happen. It has too many places to hide.
“If I can’t have you, no one will,” I tell humor, searching the crevices that once held in them a network of thoughts.
“If you don’t get rid of this headache, I’ll gladly die to get out of your mind,” humor says.
“I’m already out of my mind,” I remind humor. “You might s well be out of my mind, too.”
Humor replies, “That’s insane!”
“What’s the world coming to! Nothing spells right!” I scream, the echo resounding through the vacated places where brain cells once flourished. Both of us bored into oblivion under a ton of useless words, it all becomes so clear to me.
Some days the only viable option is to go back to bed.