Why is it when I try to write nothing ever comes?
I'm not artistic enough
I need to workout
I eat too much
I need to suffer
I can't let other people know what goes on in my head so I compose myself perfectly around others. But left to myself I'll twitch and other things... I try to surround myself with other people as a sort of pill to keep me swallowing my manic tendencies.
I don't believe in a cure
If I didn't have other people I'd have to kill myself
I think I will
fade
try not to exist
stay beautiful
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You're a prose writer, you just don't realize it yet.
ReplyDeleteI've been watching my roommate's goldfish. It's in a huge tank all by itself. It doesn't pay much mind to me...but I watch it still, wondering if it needs a friend.