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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Submitted: February 13, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 13, 2018



Today my fingers fly over the keys for my heart is heavy, I nearly cracked a smile only because of the fact that I realised how important my writing is to me, it offers me a haven when I feel more than misunderstood, I feel I have lost my voice in the real world and sure I war between inspiration and stagnant frustration when I want to write, sometimes it flows freely like the fresh water of a river almost bursting at its banks, other times it is like squeezing blood from a stone and we all know you would be squeezing that stone until your own hands bleed, is it sacrifice? Well yes I suppose it is as more often than not I find I find I write more when I am in pain and sometimes the quality of the writing is better, it’s a little sad but then this is when the ‘Tortured Artist’ complex resonates.

Thank you my small number of readers who quite often leave a like or little heart notification, in all honesty you are more precious than anyone in the real world-or I should correct that and say in my conscious and immediate reality, I may never meet you but you have listened to me, my personality is also reflected in words I cannot express myself well and even for me to write a personal piece, it is hard, but in poetry it is like a dance-which I also feel I should mention, I love dancing, belly dancer and burlesque performer and also the one you would find on a dance floor if I ever brave the world at night fuelled by liquor. Although I am veering off point the original point I was trying to make or write was that my voice is small, I quite often get spoken over it irks me at times but I am a better listener anyway.

I think today I will write I am not sure I should post it all as there is only so much reading a person wants to invest their time in on Tumblr.

But thank you strangers and strange friends as you have been a friend even just through the act of reading snippets of my writing.

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