Titles can kiss my ass
Mom wants me to start writing everyday, so I'm working on it. I skipped quite a few days, because the only thing I can seem to write about is my insecurity in my decisions and trying to reaffirm myself that this is ok. Rants and raves, the usual for me I guess. So I'm looking forward to figuring out what else i have to say that doesn't relate to past relationship things. Maybe that was all I could ever write about in the first place. I've shut off parts of myself for so long that it's hard to remember to access them again, for one reason or another, so that makes it difficult also. I'm like a glass that got cracked and needs to be melted down again and reformed, the same parts but in a different configuration on a microscopic level. Or something.
The goals and purposes of my life have been lost along the way. Parts of my glow covered over like they were blemishes on an otherwise perfect skin. I let it happen without realizing it until it was too late. I could blame it on complacency being bred into me or some dumb shit, but I wont. It's times like these I really like to take out old cd's and listen to them, like they are clues to my former self I can follow back. Also, reading things I wrote forever ago, like it'll make it possible for me to spew out words with no problem that echo with who I am. I used to be able to do that. Maybe I'm clinging to it like one would cling to the memories of a former lover. I miss that so much. I miss who I used to be. I used to be full of something, but it all drained out slowly. Now I'm rambling and crying. I blame it on the whiskey. I blame it on the time and the day and the alignment of the planets. I really just didn't know it would slip away from me if I let go for too long. I thought it would always be in me. So fuck. Help. Someone drop me a flotation device before I drown in myself.
Send me writing prompts someone, please.
The goals and purposes of my life have been lost along the way. Parts of my glow covered over like they were blemishes on an otherwise perfect skin. I let it happen without realizing it until it was too late. I could blame it on complacency being bred into me or some dumb shit, but I wont. It's times like these I really like to take out old cd's and listen to them, like they are clues to my former self I can follow back. Also, reading things I wrote forever ago, like it'll make it possible for me to spew out words with no problem that echo with who I am. I used to be able to do that. Maybe I'm clinging to it like one would cling to the memories of a former lover. I miss that so much. I miss who I used to be. I used to be full of something, but it all drained out slowly. Now I'm rambling and crying. I blame it on the whiskey. I blame it on the time and the day and the alignment of the planets. I really just didn't know it would slip away from me if I let go for too long. I thought it would always be in me. So fuck. Help. Someone drop me a flotation device before I drown in myself.
Send me writing prompts someone, please.