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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
i want some feed back on what you think

Submitted: September 21, 2016

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Submitted: September 21, 2016

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The question I run into the most nowadays is how does one write well? How do we improve? How do we get noticed? I say, you must keep writing. Inside of a dark room when all of your light bulbs have popped and your head and your ideas thin away as light ice laying on top of your heart.  I say, you must get lost inside of your heart because emotions are a bitch and I’ve been waiting to duke it out with myself inside of myself for myself because of myself and you know something else? You write because we bleed and yeah, metaphorical ink is beautiful. You write because something says, FUCK. This shit has to give. This shit has to come out. Let there be blood stains where you’ve written and you will know that some battles require more than you’ve ever given and if that isn’t enough. Let there be tears where you’ve slept because what’s life without a far cry for help and I’m sorry if I’m blunt, but words come at a cost and I’m not amazing, my words, they suck. If you want to write like me, you’re in for a treat because you could never. We are before anything else… we are ourselves. Let that sink in. Let it drop down your spine as an acid trip. Let it sink in like the time you got high for the first time. Let it flow into your veins like the first time. Let it flow veins like the first time a bee sting said, that’s why you don’t fuck with me. Let it spread all over your body, you’re a letter being written and know that if you write like a writer, you must die like a writer, if you want to write like a poet, you must love like a poet and if you want to write like the stars, you must shine like the stars. The price of writing like the greats, it comes with a cost. If you’re prepared to bust every fucking bulb in the name of next prose piece, believe me, you’re going to be fucked. Words may come easily, but it’s this constant fatigue and if you hate every bone inside of your body- know that you’re getting close. If you want to write better, breathe better, live better, and love better. If you want to know something about writers, we romanticize because life is grey and we need more strawberries where lips used to be, a reminder that even if lips could hold knives, at least it was shoved between you and me. I know that writing this came with a cost, but I’m glad you’re finally getting to know me.


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