Words
Fuck poetry.
I don’t know what happened, other than my creative writing class, that made me feel like writing a poem would give me hay fever. Perhaps it was the straight up realization that I’m not very good at it, nor do I understand it well. I used to think that not understanding it meant something… like my inability to understand made me a real poet.
What a fool I was.
So I’m going back into the world of fiction. I’ve missed you, old pal….
I hate feeling like I can’t write a story because I don’t have time. I hate feeling like writing is a waste of time unless it is for an assignment. I finally feel fiction in my fingers again but I feel like it takes too much time to commit to paper. When I have the time to, I don’t feel like writing.
Are you still a writer if you never write?
I wonder what it feels like to fail school because all you did was write fiction. Would I feel like the semester was well spent anyway?
I want a tattoo. I don’t know where or what. But I want one. And I’m not sure if having one in a visible place is worth it or not… I am attached to the idea of getting a tattoo that very simply says, “Words.” What do you think?
I expect you to encourage me now.
