Ohmygod I am so fantastic. I've written five poems in the last half hour. my god, I am the most amazing fucking person in the world. Fuck yes. Why do I cuss a lot when I am really fucking happy with my fucking self? I am just so fucking awesome. So is my 5-minute poetry. It sucks for regular poetry, but for 5 minute poetry, I am FANTASTIC. Oh, oh, I'm going to go pull out an old poetry journal, pick a really old, bad poem of mine, and make it awesome, like me. YES. YES. YES.
Note: I realize, my handwriting has only gotten worse as time goes on, at least when it comes to cursive. But my poetry's gotten better, so its a fair trade off.
Note 2: So even though my cursive was better then, I can't even read it. Maybe I can just really bad handwriting. The journal I was looking through was my, not last one, but one before that, so now I'm going to the one before that.
Note 3: I found that one and my very first serious Writing Journal ever!! Its full of fanfiction!! x3 Oh the memories. The pathetic, pathetic memories. The other one I found was from my ex. It smells so weird, and it has some reaaaallly bad whiney poetry. Ah, its just so fun looking back.
I remember that I used to write poetry about how angry or sad I was, so when he'd come over and try to look through it, I wouldn't let him because I was afraid he'd get upset or something.
Well, I guess that's changed - now I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve and all. I guess I sort of don't worry about it, because my emotions which get turned into poetry can't really be held accountable for what I'm actually thinking - my emotions are impulsive, but my thoughts are not. My thoughts tell me everything is going to be fine, but my emotions must get written.
I've realized something. I NEVER fill out the last few pages of my journals. Every single one basically has a few empty pages at the back. I think its because I have this issue where I think that I need to conclude it with something awesome and then I get intimidated and just leave those pages blank.
I feel the need to chronologize my Writing history through my journals. I will at a later date. Oh this is fun. This journal's smell is sort of sickening me though. I want to spray a ton of perfume on it or something, but I won't. I think that would be some sort of metaphor for sugarcoating the entire, I don't know, period of my life. Okay, I'm going to post something.
Oh look, little me was so clever.
A regular William Carlos Williams, eh? Best thing in that entire journal, and I am not kidding.