Living You a Story

I am here, feeling alone again.

The tables and shelves are empty; the cupboards hold a few paper plates and plastic cups. Every hole in the wall will soon be filled with plaster and painted over, and then covered with boxes, masked with tape. I realized today that this house is made of cardboard – it could never be a home.

The dreams that were attached to me are shedding – and scorching the earth as they flee. I feel like there is talent that might expire soon – I wish I could be someone who knows how to move his life forward without having a crutch to stumble around with. I want to be able to make my world edible (though I would settle if it were credible).

Here I go again – feeling sorry for myself.

I feel as if this is the first time I’ve let the troubles in my mind come through my fingers accidentally. It’s never felt so good – why did I give this up? I might have been trying to be some sort of violent rock star – something I think I’m not. This isn’t about writing; this is about my life. I need to stop writing about writing, wanting, love, and bravery. I can’t just want to write a story.

I need to live a story, to love someone a story.

I can’t just want to move my life forward, I have to get off my butt and do it. Yeah, I hate to admit that I’ve written stupid bullshit to get into Alltop and be famous – to be the master of violence who violates words while smiling. I could continue to invent cute little rhymes and guest entries to perpetuate this, but I’d rather continue dancing around my life in a way that isn’t streamlined – I don’t need to try to impress these parents and famous bloggers to get attention – isn’t that is why I have my writing?

What I mean to say is that nothing can help me if I’m not helping myself. I will be taking the time to clean up my sloppy writing and find ways to cut closer to my point. I will be searching out any opportunity I can to improve my writing.

I could use a cute analogy or metaphor to further exemplify my point – but you and I know that I’m not that kind of person (though I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to throw in a slam poetry reference).

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