for a short while, i felt ＰＯＷＥＲＦＵＬ.
i couldn't string together concepts, or write a 50k word novel;
i couldn't piece together complexly constructed metaphors...
but i was good enough —
good enough for me —
and i was better than i was years ago.
i was writing again, and that was the only thing that was important to me.
but months passed... and something shifted.
now nothing i write is any good, or is anything that's resembling complex, beautiful or ethereal. it's... bland. it's boring. it's too on the nose, too... terrible.
now i draw, now my focus has shifted, now i study and study but my brain is pleading but i don't know what it's pleading for it's just pleading it's just
"PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE"
PLEASE WHAT????? PLEASE WHAT???????
i don't know.
all i know is that —
that power?
with its glow so dim and so weak?
it's gone again.
it's gone again, i'm feeling weird, and i don't know who i am anymore.
who i was then, and who i am now are split from the same image — but the essence of one is off. it scrapes the roof of my mouth and screams at the back of my head.
that power i felt in that month, sweet and fleeting... gone from my fingertips, replaced with a feeling that i don't even know how to comprehend.
how do i end this
i don't even know how
