Words

Where Have the Words Gone?

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I wish my words flowed when I wanted them too. It’s been days really, since I’ve had anything worth putting in print. I still don’t have anything and it’s frightening. I’ve been reading during the times that my mind has been empty in hopes of triggering that spark of inspiration that I need to continue my own work.

I have multiple stories that I have started but not a single idea on how to get them to progress in a manner that’s suitable for me. It’s been a rough time for my words and I, but I hope all of you continue to stick around to see what eventually comes forth.

In the meantime, I would love for you guys to check out The “Wanted” Needs. It’s a creative writing blog that I contribute my writing to and it also includes similar style writings by other extremely talented authors.

Thanks!

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No Words

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I wish I had something to say. I hate having days to where I have nothing. No story, no poetry. No words. For in my world, no words mean no feelings. No feelings mean no life. No life means… Well, I think you know what that means. It’s always a sad day when the words fail to come together to create. For it’s not just a sad day, it’s an empty day. Which in my book, isn’t really much of a day at all.

Writing…

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“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

By far one of my more favorable quotes that once came from Hemingway’s brilliant mind. It’s a daunting truth really. Writing is simple. It’s pure passion. It comes from within. What makes that a hard pill to swallow is when people shy away from what you write. When they think your blood staind on the paper isn’t enough. When, to them, there is too much blood to see a message, not enough blood to seep through or just having a non compatable type. To bleed with no acknowladgement is how a writer dies. Once it flows there is no stopping and soon there will be nothing left but a hollow shell unless there is someone willing to donate their own blood to the cause. I believe that most writers are victims in need of transfusions. Passion for passion. Those who crave to read and those who bleed to write. One does not simply exist without the other which in turn makes writing far more than nothing. It makes it challenging and frightening. It seems like no work at all to slice a vein and let it bleed, and in reality, it’s not, but when no one knows how to make it stop, or give you more… Death will be emanant. Writing is tretourous and it’s a hard thing to handle.

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Words

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I have a serious love hate relationship with words. I have a tendency to live by my words alone because sometimes that’s all I have available. I put everything I have behind the words I speak and I always mean every one of them. So of course, id like to think the same for the words of others. That’s where I go wrong. Unfortunately, not everyone has the same relationship with words as I do. As much as I adore reading, and the creative writing aspect of words, I should have realized it was a poor mistake. It is far too easy for any one person to just put words together without them speaking of any truth. It is far too easy to lie with mere words with no one the wiser. I have been fooled too many times to even count because I have given clout to words from people that were undeserving. So even though I put everything behind the words I create, coming from others, they are just that. A creation. Maybe they are a creation of truth and sincerity but how will you ever really know? I guess that’s where faith and trust come in but ive lost all of mine. There are days though that I know something that is said is a blatant lie, but I still devour every word because everyone wants to hear those words that just secrete absolute beauty. The words that make you feel good about yourself. No one ever wants to believe they could be a fabrication because the moment you do, everything crumbles. Lets not forget all of the obvious hateful words. All the ones you wish were a fabrication of creativity but never turn out to be. Yea… words. They can become pure bliss but also such a pain in the ass when you cant figure out what’s worthy enough to be believed in. My secret… believe in nothing.

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