I know Zach and I have some unresolved issues between us, but I didn’t realize my brain was consumed by everything about him. I snort at my own thoughts.
Idoknow that I’m consumed by him. That’s why I have my phone facedown, on silent across the room. So I don’t get up and check for any new messages. I haven’t gotten any since the day he left, and I’ve read through those so many times, I can picture them in my mind without a second thought.
Honey:You left.
Zach:I did, but I still love you. I always will.
Honey:I know. I love you too.
I completely understand why he left me here. Does that mean I’m happy about it? No, but that doesn’t change anything. Zach’s gone, so there’s nothing for me to keep running from.
Alright, focus, Honey.
I talk to myself gently, taking deep breaths as I do. Getting angry is only going to make this harder.
Flipping back to today’s page, I put my pen to paper and try again.
He was...
I loved the way he...
Green eyes tore me...
I don’t finish any sentence. I just glare at them in annoyance. It’s all about him again.
I need to stop this.
I toss the notebook onto the bed and let out a big sigh.
Why can’t I write about anything but him?
Because I love him. I’ve always loved him... But I have to be more than him. I have to be more than just a Sanderson.
I just don’t know how to find my voice.
On the side table, the craft book sits where I left it two days ago. Its spine is cracked open to a page that I’ve read four times, but I don’t think I really took it in. I reach for it mostly because it’s there, and I need something to do with my hands.
The passage I keep coming back to is near the middle of the chapter.
Every writer I've ever admired has told me about the same thing in different words: when the page won't give, stop looking at it. Go do something you've never done. Something that scares you a little, and that your body has to be present for. The writing isn't lost. It's just waiting for you to bring it something new to work with.
I read it twice, then I close the book, set it back on the side table, and sit with that for a second.
Go and do something you’ve never done.
That worked with the zip line the other day. Who’s to say it won’t work again? Maybe it’ll be even better because this time, it’ll just be me.
Without thinking too much about it, I push the chair back, stand up, and put my shoes on. Grabbing my keycard, I walk out the door before I can talk myself out of it.
The hallway is quiet, with just a low buzz from the air conditioning, and there’s a housekeeping cart parked two doors down. I take the stairs instead of the elevator because I don't actually know where I'm going yet, and the stairs give me more time to figure it out.
I pass Deck 5.
Deck 4.
I'm moving, at least. That's something.
Wedged between the coffee bar and the gift shop is a sign-up sheet that says ‘ADVENTURE AWAITS’ in bold, eye-catching font.
