Inspired, written on a lonely day, a few months ago.

For the first time in many days, I have felt inspired to write. About something. Don’t know yet what it is, but somehow, I want to give my thoughts a gift and let them out. They will either adorn your computer screen with a beautiful painting, or splatter it with graffiti. Your loss, my gain. Whatever.

Have you ever found a friend so akin to your own inner self that you got freaked out? The only difference between the two of you is that that friend is an absolute connoisseur in writing but a goofball with speaking, whereas you yourself are a blundering fool in writing, but words flow from you like when you have a nosebleed? It sucks, I’d so much rather be better with writing than with speaking. Because then I can vent without having to have anyone listen. It would be just weird to vent in speaking, people would think I’m retarded. But on that note, they would probably be right. Haha

Don’t know what sort of inspiration this would be, a blessing or a curse. Either way, I have bottled in all my guts to the extent that my inner self has rotted away in sheer disgustingness. Mostly due to the fact that no one is there anymore to listen to me anyway. Like I said, when you’re better at speaking than writing, it disadvantageous in that when you speak you need an objective, non-judgmental, loving listening LISTENER, which half my luck, are frankly extinct in my non-eventful life at the moment. I had the nerve to adore the only one person who would listen to me, and now I’ve lost even that person. No one is to blame for that except my own self. Bummer. SO wish I could write. But I caused World War III even with that. Bad experience. Metaphorical, no-one-but-me-knows-what-I-mean sort of writing would have been a lifesaver in the past. But I was too stupidly honest. I never wrote again till now.

I wish so much that I could write metaphorically without mindlessly slipping back into the inevitable realities of mental wiring. I’m just not a metaphorical thinker. I seriously have got to stretch my mental vocabularic imagination. Not just making up words in my mind like I’ve just done. It would be an invaluable gift to be able to see crystal clear the connection between hell deep thinking and an exploding coke bottle. And likening skin flaking off your nose when you got sunburned to not caring about what people think about you. Can you see the connection? Maybe when I yell, “Giraffe!!” you need to analyse a kazilliion levels deeper, and that’s what I mean. You know, strange things like that.

I need a shower. I smell like fried food. Don’t analyse that. I simply meant what I said.

kayje kayje
22-25, F
1 Response May 18, 2012

ok. that WAS deep. It made me think. It made me think about all the people that I know are brilliant, cause I can just seem to sniff that out you know?, who are all sooo quiet. not because of hardships or pain...but because I just don't know, you know.. it's that sense of "I know you're more than what you show, and you won't ever make me privy, but Jeez! I just want to know!" you know?...Good work!

oh I know! :) Thank you...