Twenty-Two

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I wish I wrote the way I thought
Obsessively
Incessantly
With maddening hunger
I'd write to the point of suffocation
I'd write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I'd write about you
A lot more
Than I should

- Benedict Smith

Thoughts of a Twenty-Two year-oldWhere stories live. Discover now