Breathe

I've grown so damn detached. My ambition instructs me to rage. My body insists upon discipline. My heart is mired in indifference. So here I am at a standoff. After all, movement can't be created out of nothing. It's a law of thermodynamics. My inner flame needs to be stoked by something outside of myself. Gritting my teeth and clenching my fists won't get it done, not anymore. I need a love reaction, a hate reaction, something. But the price of elicitation has gone up. And there's a hole in my pocket.

Oh we're so proud of ourselves when we impose self-denial, particularly when there's no good reason to go without. "How altruistic of me to deprive myself of love, happiness, and redemption! I shouldn't take what I don't deserve, anyhow." What a cheap way to ennoble oneself. Although we'd like to think so, suffering needlessly doesn't guarantee anything in the future. Privation it is not altruism. It's fear, idealized fear.

The room is getting cold but that means something else is heating up. I can hear the potential energy whispering in my ear. "You can't keep starting over. This is where it ends. Norma, finish what you've started."

I'm Right Fucking Here

open your eyes.

How Novel

I just realized my life befits a bad paperback.

Passion Transfusion

There's something bad wallowing in my blood, spreading with every heartbeat. Every day I wake up with a sick feeling inside. I want to purge myself of this feeling but I don't know how. I used to get through by ignoring yesterday but that's just a quick fix. I can't start from zero every morning.

No wonder I can't get things done. Castles in the air can't be reached when you keep smashing up the foundation. Fucking perfectionism. Yeah, I'm a perfectionist. How I hate that word. This is the one and only time I'll ever call myself that. But it's true. Things are never good enough for me. I don't think that writers are ever through with the stories they dream up. It's neverending destruction and reconstruction. The binding of paper that gets put on the shelf is just one version of the story, the one that was given up on.

You Don't Know This, But You're Going To Break My Heart

break me.

go ahead.

i'm ready for it.