Deep Thoughts: Why

that narrow chute that pulls me up. carries me down to. it looks like a hill, but moves like a mountain.

why write?

when i wrote my first poem at 13 (it was crappy by the way) i assumed it was because i was alll angsty and suicidal. i guess it was.

18 years i've been writing this drivel and i'm still not finished yet.

when it carried on. when the pages stuck, i didn't think much about it. just did. and creative writing class was cool. and easy to ace.

i guess you have to write a lot before you actually write anything good. just like any skill you have to practice, regardless of talent.

when i wrote about mcdoofus, i knew i needed to then. talk to the pages because they always listen and they always understand. that stuff mostly sucked too. maybe all of it does.

cause everything i thought was good then, later on, i always think is crap. as the years go on and new words pile up, everything from before loses its splendor.

maybe it's not about writing well at all, just writing it down. removing it from my head.

when i wrote about scoots, it was like having a tooth extracted. as hard as i pulled and as much a i twisted, that one thin strand of gums kept holding on.

now i just write about myself. or what i remember of her.

for now these words seem nimble, but eventually they too will stumble and fall.

why write?

not because i want to. not because i can.

just because what i am is this. nothing more.

that narrow chute of stairway isn't getting any wider. and it just keeps getting steeper. both the climb and the descent.

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