Photos

let the decay, decay

while i’m having a mental breakdown, i’m just going to leave this here for you

i took them a few weeks ago and about a year ago

i’m trying to find my way back to myself through creativity

through art

i’m trying to find myself with the only lifeline i’ve got left – that something else, that passion that bites into your blood and wakes you in a lovely frenzy, certain you can take a sword to whatever stands in your way, that aliveness which i haven’t felt in so long

i’m grasping at strands and holding them to my chest until they grow into something more, something thicker, something that crawls into my pores and seeps into my muscles, binding with my bones until i’ve become

until i’ve become

 

well… apparently i had something to say today

who knew

here’s those photos i promised up at the top

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Stream of Consciousness

Mi Amor / My Passion

I was going to write about genre today. Then I got to thinking about all the specifics and generalities, all the ‘rules’ of writing, and about the craft and how you’ll always be perfecting it, never fully perfect.

Then I generally felt kind of dumb.

Here I am thinking about all these rules, rigid and cold.

Where’s the emotion?

Why did I start writing?

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I enjoy it.

I read a blog post yesterday about caring less. I think that’s a really good idea – to care less. About your rough draft writing, that is. I’m sticking to rough drafts here – no pinning me as responsible for blown kitchens. I say you should care about most things. Like hygiene, sleep, and how long ago you turned the oven on.

I love how Cheryl said it. You can find her post here – if you’re a writer, or anyone who isn’t enjoying doing what they once did, I suggest you read it. She talks about how we should stop caring about how this sentence looks, perfecting this chapter, stop caring that this isn’t the perfect word, while we’re sitting down to simply write the rough draft. If you do, you’ll never get anywhere and the enjoyment you could have gotten from writing will be sucked away into a dismal abyss of nothingness.

Continue reading “Mi Amor / My Passion”