I’m so tame but secretly unhinged.
Kindly, get it together.
Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.
I wish I wrote the way I thought
With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
a lot more
than I should
How come your mind races with thoughts late at night? As I sit here, I’m doing lots of thinking which isn’t good for me. It never has been. Thinking about what I’ve done with my past, what I will do in/for my future only to realize that I’m not sure. No clue at all. Then panic slowly starts to set in when I realize I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a plan. Not sure if I’m fucked yet. I do have my bachelors so I’m guessing I’m not that bad off but then again I won’t ever do a traditional 9 to 5. Refuse to join the rat race. So where does that leave me?