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of rushed words and hushed thirsts
mellowman

the wave, the surge

Some call it love and some call it sex.
opposites.
Call it what you want, but with one touch and you’re gone, so call in sick.
Human politics, from whispered hushes and distant crushes.
Mental fits breakin’ pencil tips and
inkin’ brushes.
Simple rushes.
God makes man and this is the devil's finishing touches.
- Butterfly Effect -

alfresco

beat, rhythm
questions, answers

movements





brief traces

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Friday, October 15, 2010

I'm really scared right now. I don't know why, the reasons feel unclear and it seems like such an absurdity for me to feel this way but I am. I am, and it scares me more.

I had this idea for a story and I practically squealed in delight when I thought of it because ideas haven't been coming easy to me recently. So I immediately jumped to it and wrote the first few lines when I came to a halt. The words felt unfamiliar and my head was pounding. I felt insecure. Indecisive. What words should I use? What do I depict first? What was the conveyance that I was trying to aim? Everything felt horribly wrong. Every word and syllable of it.

I'm scared of putting my idea in words. It all may go horrendously and I feel like everything's going to blow. I don't know what's spurring my ~emo~ state right now but it's been going on since last night. Maybe it's the Adrian Mole I'm reading; Everything's so satirical, it hurts.

I think I wont try to force myself to write just yet and sleep on the idea for a few days. Maybe the momentum will build up which hopefully, will push me to start writing again.


♥ 1:01 PM