Saturday, October 25, 2014

I'm untitled

I don't know who I am, at times. I feel like a million things all at once, then I feel like nothing. Abandoned at times by those I normally feel closest to. Being there for them, offering support, and at times, advice. But when I'm feeling lost, confused, and pushed down by the world, I'm alone. Left to forge my path, find answers, alone.

I'm a novel barely begun, and yet at times, I feel as though I'm midway through completion, without substance. I'm a writer staring blankly at a sheet of paper, or a computer screen, unable to write a beginning, only knowing a true, definitive end.

I'm a hundred paragraphs, unconnected, yet must be connected somehow. The lines that connect them are invisibly drawn, having yet to appear and make themselves known, for I must draw them myself.

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