81

I've written 81 poems in the past two years. I have a green leather bound notebook with a girly, childish flower design on it where I keep these thoughts. My handwriting has changed over the years. I've explored different writing styles, subjects, and ink colors. I've had different muses. And now, I'm almost done. I've shared a few of these poems on this blog, but they are much more dear to my heart than they will ever be to anyone who finds inspiration within them. Writing is an exploration of the soul. Probably one of the lesser mediums of self-expression. I find music, though similar, to be much deeper, and more complete.

Anyways, when I write, it is never contrived. Though I am adamantly against feminist, persuasive essay writers, one mentioned how when she writes, she feels an overwhelming pressure building inside her, and when she wrote, the cathartic release alleviated that pressure, until she needed to write again. That is sort of how writing is for me. My thoughts will be consumed with one idea, and until one day I sit down in front of a computer or with paper and I write until that idea has taken complete form. The cadence and style, the length and symmetry, the language, vocabulary, subject, allusions, everything is my way of verbally depicting that idea that is stuck in my brain.

Writing also comes in spells. I would describe myself as a generally upbeat, friendly, easy-going person, but I will not ignore the deep streak of melancholy that runs in my veins. I am definitely not depressed, but I do enjoy being sad and somber from time to time. I like being able to feel, and every so often I'll be rapt with something sobering, and therefore overcome with emotion and deep thought. It is much easier for me to write when I'm in that mood.

What am I getting at? I don't really know, I just felt like explaining what goes on, and why I've written so many poems. They're really good, to be completely honest. And writing for me, is wildly cathartic. Everyone needs time to themselves, time to reflect, and a way to release what burdens their heart. It doesn't have to be deep, just whatever gives you that cathartic release.

This song is creepy and beautiful, maybe it could put you in that mood. (Thanks Olie, I love the Hush Sounds!!!!) <3

Fake

I sorta really like fake specimen and stuff like that. Nature, when its caged, very still, and within my grasp. Dead nature. But so far, I don't have a lot to my collection. And, I have a new piece of "art".

Bunnies

poor kids. anything can be creepy. and some parents are just sick. 

Refusing Fatality

Fate would have me to believe
It was chance
Pretty lucky I guess
We made it when everyone else
Was dealt a fatal card
I look at the past
How we barely made it out alive
And by clutching onto freedom
Learned to breathe underwater

But listen.

Fate has not won us
We don't await that fatal blow
Because beyond the conviction
Of imminence
Is love.
The marked road we tread
Is completely metaphoric
And I am so convinced
I know not even fate could invervene
You and I were ment to be
Past what fate could percieve.