i read all of these words and i wish they had come out of my hands, out of my heart, conjured from my mind. i want to dive right into the abyss, soak myself in words, sink into these little joinings of letters that just understand me right down to my very bone. the way you can read a sentence and just think, fuck. fuck, how does that resonate so deep? how do these people know my soul inside out? they write the words my veins are filled with. you wish you could write every single piece of writing that has ever spoken to you in a certain way, you want to write it all over a blank wall but you know that the blank wall will eventually turn into a block of black. because when you get to the end, when you finish writing every single thing, every piece that ever made you feel something more than… more than life, it will have overlapped. just overlapped into nothing and everything and it will be every word and every sentence and every phrase but it will no longer make sense. because that is what words end up being; endless nonsensical things that can be forgotten in a second, but you remember the feeling it gave you, the shivers and the joy and the love and the hate. the sadness, oh the tears shed over words, just words. and there’s that particular feeling, that one that sits at the bottom of your spine. a mixture of sitting in a weird position from reading for so long, and it almost feels like nerves, nerves at the thought of someone understanding you so well. and you just get lost in the thoughts of someone else, and you think, you wonder if they can feel it too? if they know how much their words have affected you? can they feel it? i want them to feel it, i want them to feel the intensity and the love and the words that i just don’t have. the words i want to say and the words i can’t think to say and the words i am saying, i want it all to be understood and i want to make people feel the same. i want to make people cry, and laugh, and go, oh my god how did she know? how did she know the words for those feelings i could never quite pinpoint? i want it and i’ll have it. i’m going to have it.
24 year old writer, just trying to find her way through the world through words and funny anecdotes.