where the line between my pen and mind's at war
I’ve decided that writing is a gift and a curse.
It’s conflicting…to get annoyed that something keeps you up at night that you just have to get it down…to get mad at yourself for the one time you forget to keep a pen or scrap of paper in your bag…to obsess over something only you will care about…
And then miss it all when the inspiration stops coming.
I want to write something amazing. And not to sound full of it, but I want to do it for me. Not to prove someone wrong or to make a name or anything, but to do what I love, create something I love, tell a story worth knowing, to fulfill some unconscious need I have to show myself that I can do my best. To know that I have a best.
I wonder if I even make sense anymore.
It’s conflicting…to get annoyed that something keeps you up at night that you just have to get it down…to get mad at yourself for the one time you forget to keep a pen or scrap of paper in your bag…to obsess over something only you will care about…
And then miss it all when the inspiration stops coming.
I want to write something amazing. And not to sound full of it, but I want to do it for me. Not to prove someone wrong or to make a name or anything, but to do what I love, create something I love, tell a story worth knowing, to fulfill some unconscious need I have to show myself that I can do my best. To know that I have a best.
I wonder if I even make sense anymore.