Thursday, February 24, 2011


I can't write. All my words are bullshit. The world is moving under my feet. And I'm wondering when the story changed, when the key shifted and I'm wondering why no one told me. They always said that life moves fast, that's true but I guess I didn't know what they meant when they said there'd be no time for shock, no time to readjust. The room spun and the walls fell away, the doors rotated. That was all. You stumbled into your new life, unoriented and dizzy, gripping the door frame like a cane. That was all.

This month is full of ghosts. I fall into memories and have to spend days trying to swim back to the surface. My last February in this place was almost over and I didn't feel like visiting old scars. I've spent the last few weeks ignoring the aches, biting back the pain, disguising the grimaces behind blinks. I wish that I had something beautiful to give you but my words are the only things I'll ever own. And even those won't belong to me forever. I've got some notebooks I'd like to clean out, some words I'd like to sweep from under the chairs and couches and I'm thinking about cutting up those scattered sentences that don't make sense, boiling them back down to letters and rearranging them into words that mean something.


  1. "I fall into memories and have to spend days trying to swim back to the surface."
    how can you possibly think that's ugly?
    you have such a way with words that it shocks me repeatedly, it lead me to write my first poem even.
    those words still hold true
    for me, i often don't like things i write when they reflect a bad aspect of my life
    but just because your view of your writing is stained with memories, doesn't mean it isn't beautiful.
    you have such a way with words, please don't ever stop.
    sometimes you remind me of Tim Winton.
    there's a kind of lyrical dance to your writing.
    with love,

  2. I have to agree with the previous commenter that I have trouble appreciating a piece of writing I've written when it brings back horrible memories, or when it was written for someone who's now gone.

    However, there is still beauty in your words, no matter what. You shouldn't ever forget that...

  3. I agree with Lilah, I think your writing is beautiful.
    "I've got some notebooks I'd like to clean out." I love to read your words, and would love to read anything else that you decide to empty out of your notebooks.
    Your blog was one of the first I found on Blogger, and has inspired me to write to no end. I've always wanted to write as well as you.

  4. I love the line "You stumbled into your new life, unoriented and dizzy, gripping the door frame like a cane."

    you are so talented; please never doubt the beauty of your work.

  5. the first two sentences sum up my blogging-block.

    and, hey, you're a damn good writer.
    ...wanted to say that.

  6. Thank you for your comment. And this is beautifully written. I can certainly tell that it's from within your heart. I believe I know a bit of how you feel.

  7. No I haven't read it, but I'll definitely add it to my reading list :)
    Would you recommend it?

  8. Your comment on my blog really means a lot, it's so lovely to know that I am inspiring people as much as the the things I post inspire me. You say your words aren't beautiful, but this is completely that! I feel like I can completely relate. Thankyou again ♥


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