Nine

Poetry has to hit you otherwise it has no point. I can't stand having to write a poem because I'm told to. How can I even begin to create anything of meaning? Inspiration doesn't come through force. It's like a butterfly landing on a fence. It flies down when it wants to and leaves when it wants to. You can plant flowers that will draw the butterfly near but you can't force it to come. It's a process that only comes with time and patience. Real life brings inspiration. How can you be inspired by something that has never happened? I could write on murder, being pregnant or skydiving. Would they be inspired? How could they? I've never murdered anyone or been involved in anyway with murder. Someday I would like to have kids, but that's way down the road. Skydiving is on my to-do list but right now I have no time. I get so frustrated when I get handed a poetry assignment. It's so constraining.

Today I'm quiet, and at a loss for words. My feet drag painfully across the floor. I'm not necessarily sure what's wrong. Reality just hits you sometimes. I couldn't live forever in my dreams but I wish I could. Wanting, waiting, hoping but not doing anything. I know I should act but I don't know how. So here I keep on writing and wishing. My head is heavy and hands drag along the keyboard. I have somewhat of an idea of what is wrong but I'm not totally sure what. What would be amazing is to talk to somebody and get it all out. I feel like everytime I start to talk to somebody though, I end up comforting them. Sometimes I'm too quick to share and othertimes I'm not quick enough. This lady at work here got all mad at me because I didn't put her cappucino in a mug. I felt bad but she was so hung up on it that I got really frustrated. I'm not a mind reader. I really, quite desperately need a friend. I'm sending out my thoughts into cyberspace because I need to get them down. why... oh dear this is quite pathetic and sad. Depression relapse or pms or quite likely a bad day? mhmm that's it.