words scare me in the way guns would scare me if i had one pointed at my head and another clasped tightly in my sweating hands and pointed at everyone i have ever loved. i will destroy everything. it is not a choice, not a possibility. it is a fact that hasn't become true yet, but it will.
i want to introduce you to my characters, but i know that if i try i will be presenting you with their corpses, dripping wet with my tears because i should have known better.
inspiration is rolling her eyes and saying that i complain when she doesn't visit and then ignore her when she does. she's right. i know she's right. but i can feel the weight of the gun in my hand, the metal cool against my feverish skin. i try to thank her for coming, try to show her to the door, but she just laughs and shakes her head. says that the only way she's letting me kick her out is if i kick out fear as well.
***
ugh. there is so much that i want to write. there are unfinished stories calling out for the endings that live in my head. there are fanfiction drabbles that claim the relatively short time it would take to finish them will be so worth it. there are characters that tell me that they finally found their stories and all i have to do is write them down. i literally dreamt of myself presenting my completed dissertation last night, and i'm pretty sure that that first chapter i've been trying to get down is hiding, perfectly worded, right behind the lyrics to the gilmore girls theme song.
but i haven't felt this in so long. i have had nothing but the company of characters with nowhere to go in my head and stories that i knew needed to be finished but that i also knew i lacked the creative abilities to do justice. and now here i am. filled with the hope that buoys me up before i sink into a new writing project. and i can't get myself to do anything about it, because i know that as soon as i put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard i'll realize that it's all just not as good as it was in my head.
so instead i'll sit here clinging to the thought that maybe it will be.
*All I Need - Matchbox 20
i want to introduce you to my characters, but i know that if i try i will be presenting you with their corpses, dripping wet with my tears because i should have known better.
inspiration is rolling her eyes and saying that i complain when she doesn't visit and then ignore her when she does. she's right. i know she's right. but i can feel the weight of the gun in my hand, the metal cool against my feverish skin. i try to thank her for coming, try to show her to the door, but she just laughs and shakes her head. says that the only way she's letting me kick her out is if i kick out fear as well.
***
ugh. there is so much that i want to write. there are unfinished stories calling out for the endings that live in my head. there are fanfiction drabbles that claim the relatively short time it would take to finish them will be so worth it. there are characters that tell me that they finally found their stories and all i have to do is write them down. i literally dreamt of myself presenting my completed dissertation last night, and i'm pretty sure that that first chapter i've been trying to get down is hiding, perfectly worded, right behind the lyrics to the gilmore girls theme song.
but i haven't felt this in so long. i have had nothing but the company of characters with nowhere to go in my head and stories that i knew needed to be finished but that i also knew i lacked the creative abilities to do justice. and now here i am. filled with the hope that buoys me up before i sink into a new writing project. and i can't get myself to do anything about it, because i know that as soon as i put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard i'll realize that it's all just not as good as it was in my head.
so instead i'll sit here clinging to the thought that maybe it will be.
*All I Need - Matchbox 20
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