it feels hella weird that it isn’t your voice on the other line
My conscience is constantly urging me to write. It wants me to spill out my thoughts in poetic rhythm. It wants to expose my nakedness, and wants me to crumble away the barriers that coexist within me. It mocks how cowardly I am. And maybe it’s right. Only cowards do not express how they feel.
Maybe I’m scared to pour my heart out in endless disposition for the world to see. And maybe I’m scared to put pen to paper because expressing my thoughts through written word would mean finality, and I’ve never been a big fan of endings.
Chocolates & Cigarettes-Angus & Julia Stone
Still too young to fail, too scared to sail away,
But one of these days, I’ll grow old
And I’ll grow brave and I’ll go…
One of these days.
We Don’t Eat - James Vincent McMorrow
"I’d rather be working for something than
praying for the rain.”