20.5.18  /  i've ranted about this before. i'm sorry, i know it's unnecesary but i have to let it out.

so, i'm wiritng a book. it's a small one, 30 pages of my own poetry, and i've scraped it all again. i set myself a deadline, 11 days from now and i have nothing. i'm blank, again, and i hate everything i've written so far. i really don't want my brain's autopilot to write this book for me but i have to write something. it's meant to be a gift but... who knows? maybe the talent that everyone tells me i have is just water droplets on paper. i just spit out sometimes and people seem to like it... but what if people tell me  i'm good for the sake of a compliment but not in a critical way. 'cause you can't really say to someone, to their face, "hey, all your feelings on this piece of paper are written like ****. try again". *** am i supposed to do...


UPDATE: i have amazing friends and they've re-motivated me. dear god i love the werid bunch of people that have my back. thank you.