Soul Sister

for balance, instead of ranting about my nonexistent lovelife, I've decided to talk about how shitty my academics are going. well, the reality is that it will all go down to my being irresponsible, but creative writing is not exactly only about sense of responsibility, but talent as well. i look back at all the poems i've done only to realize that they are all wrong. sure, writing is about saying how you feel and all that crap, but apparently there is a right way of doing it.

this is my version of free writing, so for 5-10 minutes i will rant nonstop about not being talented enough. i'm talented at so many things, waiting for one, waiting forever, second. but not so much in writing. I may be the most normal being there is. I am absolutely ordinary and it sucks the life out of me. There is nothing worst in the world than being ordinary.Franco says love for writing is enough reason to go on, but I realize love for writing will not exactly sell, it could only do so much, like pass Eng106 for example(Please Lord, let me must pass eng106).

i'm so tired of wanting something so bad and being contented in watching it from afar. actually, contented is not the right word, more like limited. i have no idea what kind of magic the invisible wall that separates me from my dream is made of. restriction, maybe. i want to free myself from the religious constrictions I have, from the family values I value so much so i can be free to write whatever I want. but the reality is that I don't even know what I want to write about. just that I want to write, that much I know.

I don't want anything else. I just want to write! no purpose, no goal. i just want to write. and yet my heart seeks the acceptance of those around me. I want to be good. my god, I'm never good enough for anything, am I?

Nikko says the problem with poetry is that it's so arbitrary. what may be good for one may suck for someone else. i don't care about anyone else, the acceptance of my professors are enough. one unbelievably flattering compliment and i might, might, might find hope in writing again.

don't get me wrong, leaving writing has never crossed my mind. this is my life. i know no other thing than writing. but sometimes, instead of freeing me from my pains, it causes me greater distress. I believe in loving what you do and doing what you love, and more than the silly boys in my blogs, writing is my one great love. but i'm getting nowhere. i have absolutely nothing wonderful to offer the world. you won't exactly get somewhere by fading away, will you? i don't want to fade away. i'm no kurt cobain, and if ever i do fade away, atleast let me do it with honor. with my own Come As You Are.

i'm not making any sense, am I? i don't usually make sense. i sort of just rant and rant and i usually don't know how to stop. I have nothing to write, tomorrow's the deadline for the Eng106 poem, and I'm tired of making something only good enough to pass. my 35/50, 15/25 and 35/50 is not good enough. no! ONE MAD IDEA! how hard is that?

my god. i've been waiting 3 hours now, where is he?