::: All Writers Have Issues :::

I'm acting out scenes of a play that hasn't been completed. on a stage that hasn't been built. to an audience who chooses not to listen. and most of the time I feel like it's just me and these pages. and the occasional text messages that roll in a few times a week from people who barely still care. just checking up on me. to make sure I haven't tied a rope of loose-leaf paper around my neck and strangled myself with it yet. due to the severe illness of writer's block. TYPE A.

Insecurities are not strangers to me. and doubt rules supreme over copper kingdoms of clouded inspiration constructed between my brain cells that die before I can bring them to life.

are u still with me?

I am the proud owner of an imagination that would rival that of any six year old you know. Disney couldn't even keep up with me. There's something magical and full of grace that lies just beyond these eyelids. and I haven't figured out how to use it.
until now.

My mind often builds styrofoam ships to gently drift atop white seas of hope for prosperity. and love.

love steps up onto boardwalks. screaming through its loudest vessels. to be included. but I have nowhere to place it.

can you help me?

I had this gorgeous light skin fantasy. that reeked of individuality. and all I wanted to do was wrap myself in his scent and apply it 3-4 times daily. - if love persists-...

consult a physician for me ok?

When I looked into his eyes I felt like Shrek. on a bad day. maybe cuz insecurity returned for a 3 hour tap dance class on my headband and messed with my perception.

But I wish he could have seen the inside of me.

and how what's written on my heart spells his name out in perfect calligraphy. and how he'll never be speechless cuz I got enough verbs and adjectives for the both of us.

but this ain't no damn love poem.

I didn't even mean for it to rhyme.

someone... get me a glass of w i n e.

[better yet. buy me a drank] ha.

My writing utensils committed mutiny. but determination breathed the life back into me.

I'm now in a relationship with Webster.

Webster and his dictionary.

Someone once told me there's no such thing as a bad day for a writer-- it's all material.

still with me?

good.

I no longer write to impress you though.
These words are responsible for themselves now.

Written by: ~ Simone Carlene

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