Skip to main content

Confidence

The point of this is not to wait for the approval.

Writing for the wrong reasons.

I miss being able to write.

Record the inaudible ideas that flowed through my veins.

I do not know when that stream was blocked.

I am learning of the blockage of my soul.

The inability to push through the wall that was in my path.

The self loathing and doubt.

When did that even start?

Does it even matter?




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It's funny. Not like... Haha Funny But Yeah.

I look at art all day but still I don't spend the time doing it. What a funny way to look at things. It's like whenever I get to the doctors office, I immediately succumb to all the sad thoughts I've been feeling if only just a second ago I was laughing on the phone with my best friend. I can't afford to pay rent. That's the honesty of it. But as soon as we pay it, I know it'll be easier for the month until school is over. I just hope it doesn't rain. At this point, it's asking the parents to help out while Garett's still in classes or go give plasma. But I get paid tomorrow. Technically it isn't  officially  late until the third. But I digress. Will I only write here when times are bad? When I'm doubting where I'm at in my life because money I don't have. I started reading the Wizard of Oz and now I'm seeing it in a new way. Post will follow. I just thought I'd chat for a while because I enjoy writing like this. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Il etait une fois . . .

Lights blinded her as She began her assent towards center stage to join the other performer.  No longer could fear hide Her in the wings as t he curtains that once held Her in safety were rapidly breached. She felt the heat of Her blood charge into Her features whilst She desperately attempts to recall Her monopolized speech. A habit She was known for in situations where words no longer mended the imaginary wounds ripped back open by the headlining Martyr.  Walking on egg shells became routine when this opposing force repeatedly brought their own garbage to the stage. Grasping at straws or words - whichever gave solace first - a peace and realization came over Her.  This Martyr fed off her once rampant insecurities. This Martyr was starving from this risen star's regained joy and craved that sweet taste of doubt that once abundantly flowed within Her.  Slowly, the Martyr fell away and the scene was over. The only taste it consumed n...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Coloring Book

Chapter One – Huey vs the Dewy Hushed with thousands of words and ideas to be shared; Confined to the spaces assigned by the authoritarian and kept aligned to avoid confusion. The air is thick with the scent of a millennium full of thoughts and time. Hopes, dreams, ideas tattooed the spines of these inanimate couriers. Although they are unable to speak, the air is electric with the anticipation of the new book drive. Each genre whispered amongst themselves as they imagined what new stories would be joining their family. Another adventure tale, possibly? A suspense novel, secreting a sensation of need and drug-like urge through its words only flipping the pages could subside? It didn’t matter. It was time to let the them in and see what lay ahead. By the time she came to, it was too late. Given the title "Huey” as an ironic play on words to this black and white coloring book, it became just another book to lay on the very top of a pile of unread and rejected stories. Her untu...
Post a Comment
Read more