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Description
oh man. writer's block. i haven't written anything noteworthy since june or so. lately, all i've been writing is letters. all you others though, you seem to be able to pump out poetry and prose as if it was in your blood and you've gone to a blood drive.
the thing is, i don't understand how i could not have inspiration. all this sumer i've seen new places and breath taking landscapes. boston all lit up at night, the oregon coast covered with fog so thick it was impossible to tell where the sky and ocean met, seeing the sun fall behind the trees while sitting on a picnic table in a maryland state park.
and then there's all the things i've done. like falling in love with the idea of a boy at one in the morning while listening to jazz and the white stripes on the 16th floor of a sheraton hotel, and then three weeks later actually falling in love with someone i can never have, even though he, at one point at least, liked me too.
and lying on a bed with my cousin laughing so hard we couldn't breathe and tears were streaming down our cheeks. and walking down the streets on santa cruz and have an apparently homeless man ask if he could buy a cigarette off me.
so maybe...maybe these things have inspired me subconciously, and it'll all burst out of me sometime in the near future, breaking my writer's block! but, i dunno, i don't think that'll happen.

Description
oh man. writer's block. i haven't written anything noteworthy since june or so. lately, all i've been writing is letters. all you others though, you seem to be able to pump out poetry and prose as if it was in your blood and you've gone to a blood drive.
the thing is, i don't understand how i could not have inspiration. all this sumer i've seen new places and breath taking landscapes. boston all lit up at night, the oregon coast covered with fog so thick it was impossible to tell where the sky and ocean met, seeing the sun fall behind the trees while sitting on a picnic table in a maryland state park.
and then there's all the things i've done. like falling in love with the idea of a boy at one in the morning while listening to jazz and the white stripes on the 16th floor of a sheraton hotel, and then three weeks later actually falling in love with someone i can never have, even though he, at one point at least, liked me too.
and lying on a bed with my cousin laughing so hard we couldn't breathe and tears were streaming down our cheeks. and walking down the streets on santa cruz and have an apparently homeless man ask if he could buy a cigarette off me.
so maybe...maybe these things have inspired me subconciously, and it'll all burst out of me sometime in the near future, breaking my writer's block! but, i dunno, i don't think that'll happen.