You get a bit of stream of consciousness today because I can’t bring these thoughts together into anything of worth.
This isn’t a plea for anything…just a need to let my thoughts free.
I am not a writer.
I am an emotional person who feels deeply and yearns for connection.
I string words together well enough, I suppose, but that doesn’t make me a writer.
A writer doesn’t just bleed onto the paper, a writer mixes breath into that blood and creates life.
A writer grabs other people and yanks them into their world and the people reading their words have no desire to be released from that world.
I admire writers and I am lucky enough to be surrounded by them.
I am a bleeder standing in a crowd of breathers.
Most times I am inspired and build up by the talent that surrounds me.
I am better because them.
But sometimes, the demons in my head laugh at me and tell me I am a fraud.
Maybe someone will mistake you for someone worth ____________.
Echoing over and over and over again.
History hates me.
My past tells stories.
All but a few are sad and all but a few hurt.
I try to hold the good and let the bad go.
I am not very good at it… I suck at it.
People leave…all of them…eventually.
If they don’t they will die…eventually.
What is the point of breathing when I am so good at bleeding?
People I love say hateful things… they might be true.
People I love say beautiful things… they might be true.
My heart hurts because I am losing you… them… me.
I need to figure out how to stop bleeding…
And learn how to breathe.
And also I must stop using dot dot dot
It annoys me