I’ve been feeling really weird lately. I want to write more, and not just in this blog but actual novels. I have ideas but getting them on paper…er…Google Docs (?) is challenging for me.

I’ve always felt in everything I do that I’m an impostor, riding off the backs of others and doing the bare minimum to keep myself hidden from the reality that is how I am not very good at that thing (whatever it is).

But writing, man. I really love to write, but when I do I feel like it could always be better. More flowery, more metaphorical, more poetic. That isn’t really my style, though. It isn’t who I am. A friend (who is a published poet might I add) showed me a blog written by this man she likes today. It seemed like his words flowed so effortlessly. They were poetic and filled with references to literature and nature that I couldn’t even begin to write. Mainly because I have the memory of a dead fly, and I don’t remember things until I have to or am reminded. I just halfway wish my words were as beautiful.

I guess that, I just like doing this. I feel like if I wrote more eloquently I’d have more readers, which isn’t really the point, and the truth is that I’d have more if I actually kept a schedule going and followed through with it!

I’m not looking for any kind words or encouragement. I just wanted to word vomit some things, that’s my style, word vomit. Short, straightforward word vomit. It works for me. <3

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