please don't slip away, st. clare/what must we do to restore our innocence?

listening: LuciDream, St. Clare

Paramore, We Are Broken

I have been in a bit of a mood these past few days, I won't lie.

I am finding myself missing things I don't want anymore and thinking about pursuing thoughts I know are bad ideas and being stressed and awful to my friends and making mistakes and desperately wanting a change from the monotony and trying to find new routes home from work because the thought of driving the same ones makes me want to scream.

and apparently, writing run-on sentences with little regard for grammar.

I want to write  like my best friend, who sits and pours out metaphors and similes with a carefree abandon and disregard for the minds that take it in. she writes for the sheer glory of reveling in language, and this is a talent I can't seem to discover. (to quote her quoting Barbara Adler, maybe I was born with the wrong gifts).

I can hear the words in my head. The problem lies only in their formation on paper.

and right now, when everything is not okay, I don't like reading what I write because it is superficial and unreal. 

ykylm,

rae