Yes, writing is an outlet. Yes, it's good to jot every fluttering thought down in some old notebook with a ballpoint pen you purchased on sale. Yes, it's nice, and yes, it does work.
But sometimes writing doesn't help. Sometimes writing adds to the burning flame inside of your chest and all you want to do is scream into a pillow because the only way you've ever been able to successfully express yourself isn't working. Sometimes you need a strong drink and a depressing playlist and a pack of cheap cigarettes. But even that doesn't always work.
It's then that you're stuck with this cycle of words and emotions that your brain threw onto an endless roller coaster; and all it is is a fucking enigma that Alan Turing wouldn't be able to decipher.
It's frustrating, and it's difficult, and it's crumbling. It's a numbing pain, infinitely stronger than morphine.
And when this is the circumstance, good fucking luck.
YOU ARE READING
random thoughts & scrawls
De Todothis is simply where i post all of my randomly thought of and scrawled out stories/thoughts/ideas/words in general
