I hate how I write.

I hate how I write. I hate that it is so simple, not wacko. Like a meal you've had a thousand times before, a song you only hear at those department clothing stores, or a bad date. My writing is like a bad date. 

You might say "yes" to this date, out of curiosity. He will ask you out with a single pink rose and wear effeminate cologne, with convincing eyebrows. "Yes" you might say. With enticing promise of adventure. But sit down at that Italian restaurant and listen to this want-to-be vagabond drone on for a half-hour and feel yourself slipping away, 'oh, did I wash that shirt I need for tomorrow' or 'I wonder if Claire will come into class tomorrow?'.

My writing doesn't do what writing should, give you escape. It's just words on a page. Just a man on a date. A waste of an evening. Time at all.