i want to write out what this feeling is like but i’m so ******* sick of my own metaphors
i don’t want to write about how deep the ocean is or how i can feel this and that in my bones
i don’t want to be that kind of writer, i don’t want to be cliché
i just want to say that i’ve felt so detached lately, like i’m made of different parts taken from different junk yards and i have a feeling in my gut that i’m either going to be a really big nothing or a really small something
i want to be good at something
writing and being poetic is too easy
why are we so easily fascinated by someone who can compare two unlikely things and talk about how the sky bends and how your fingers tremble at the thought of being destructive
this is too easy