draft last saved: august eighth, two thousand and twelve, eleven:twenty-four am.
i wander around blank pages and the nothingness presses down on me until my knees are buckling and my back is breaking and my shouts for help are being shoved down to my toes. i'm overwhelmed by the possibilities that are hiding just out of reach. i know they're here somewhere, but i also know that they are no longer for me to see. i can no longer make something out of nothing, i cannot take the page and make it sing. my words have run dry and my creativity slipped away under the cover of night.
maybe it's an excess of fear or a deficiency in sadness. it could be the pressures of expectation or the weightlessness of content that has me floating above the meanings and filling my hands with vapor instead of substance. all i know is that i had something once, and now i don't.
you're waiting for me to regale you with epic battles and tear stained images, but i have no more stories. i have no more words. i have no more need to pour my mind onto paper and share it with the world. i also have no more tears, and no more nights trying to outrun the monsters in my head.
and if this is the price that i must pay for that, so be it.
*My Last Semester - The Wonder Years
i wander around blank pages and the nothingness presses down on me until my knees are buckling and my back is breaking and my shouts for help are being shoved down to my toes. i'm overwhelmed by the possibilities that are hiding just out of reach. i know they're here somewhere, but i also know that they are no longer for me to see. i can no longer make something out of nothing, i cannot take the page and make it sing. my words have run dry and my creativity slipped away under the cover of night.
maybe it's an excess of fear or a deficiency in sadness. it could be the pressures of expectation or the weightlessness of content that has me floating above the meanings and filling my hands with vapor instead of substance. all i know is that i had something once, and now i don't.
you're waiting for me to regale you with epic battles and tear stained images, but i have no more stories. i have no more words. i have no more need to pour my mind onto paper and share it with the world. i also have no more tears, and no more nights trying to outrun the monsters in my head.
and if this is the price that i must pay for that, so be it.
*My Last Semester - The Wonder Years
:/
ReplyDeletelaziest comment ever.
ReplyDeletelol well I had nothing to comment. :/ bit I shipowner leave it at zero
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