Post by Kathleen on Apr 29, 2005 20:13:40 GMT -5
Its weird how I write.
I look over old poetry and feel dicluded,
because I can not for the life of me remember what they are about.
It's probably that I write too much.
There is not enough time to hold on to all those thoughts.
But... I remember the emotion that I had wanted to express.
Its never been hard for me.
To think about things in detail and write them down
however,
I am not a very good writer.
I tend to over-think what makes the topic worth reading.
Its frightening for me.
Writing poetry is the only thing that has ever made me happy.
Somehow, I fear that day when I can't write my ways.
It's obvious.
When I stop writing the way I have done this past year.
There will either be pure happiness in my life or as I suspect will happen,
I will finally let go and
commit suicide.
I look over old poetry and feel dicluded,
because I can not for the life of me remember what they are about.
It's probably that I write too much.
There is not enough time to hold on to all those thoughts.
But... I remember the emotion that I had wanted to express.
Its never been hard for me.
To think about things in detail and write them down
however,
I am not a very good writer.
I tend to over-think what makes the topic worth reading.
Its frightening for me.
Writing poetry is the only thing that has ever made me happy.
Somehow, I fear that day when I can't write my ways.
It's obvious.
When I stop writing the way I have done this past year.
There will either be pure happiness in my life or as I suspect will happen,
I will finally let go and
commit suicide.