Thursday, December 14, 2006
I was about to start this entry of with an "I want to explode", but I checked my last one (which was..eons ago) and that began with an "I want..", too. I don't feel like sounding selfish (nice try, nice try) and I don't feel like making sense. But I wish I could explode..into a million little stars. A million little Christmas lights (not the multi-colored ones, of course) and a million little butterfly wings and white rose petals and snowflakes that land like kisses on your cheeks.
Y'know, I think I need to work on my so-called Lit knowledge (which, in all truth, is made up of..*drumroll please* unfinished poetry books, magazines and half-opened novels nobody cares to know -ugh, just to sound cool about it), just so that I can work on my thoughts again.Or maybe I just need something to happen. I just need those God-forsaken words.
'Cause I'm starting to sound (and feel) like everyone else..and the truth is, I'm not too sure that I like it. It feels like another good time to reformat, to me. Inspiration!..the serendipitous type, of course (which makes it twice as amazing). I love how certain people can make you feel so small, and feel so much and wish you saw even more. I want to write like that -seeing more in the rough of old wooden tablesides than most have on New Year's eve.
I need to write about the way walking across a mound makes my stomach tie up in knots like it's Forever; like I'm not stuck in a rut and like I do have more in this head than useless junk about Ancient History and even older routines.
Much love, 'til then! =)
Y'know, I think I need to work on my so-called Lit knowledge (which, in all truth, is made up of..*drumroll please* unfinished poetry books, magazines and half-opened novels nobody cares to know -ugh, just to sound cool about it), just so that I can work on my thoughts again.
'Cause I'm starting to sound (and feel) like everyone else..and the truth is, I'm not too sure that I like it. It feels like another good time to reformat, to me. Inspiration!..the serendipitous type, of course (which makes it twice as amazing). I love how certain people can make you feel so small, and feel so much and wish you saw even more. I want to write like that -seeing more in the rough of old wooden tablesides than most have on New Year's eve.
I need to write about the way walking across a mound makes my stomach tie up in knots like it's Forever; like I'm not stuck in a rut and like I do have more in this head than useless junk about Ancient History and even older routines.
Much love, 'til then! =)
