“So, you consider yourself to be a.. what?
A self-destructive, head-above-the-clouds, angsty, messy artist
With no grip on reality or any sense of what the real world will show you?
Show you, show you disappointment, struggle and leave you considering a new career,
You do have a backup plan, right?
When you’re dreams to become the next Great American novelist inevitably fails?
You do have an idea of that, right?”
My words have show me
That there’s a place to dream
A hope to strive for
And a world in which
My voice can be heard
They help me sleep and dream of new worlds.
why do I write?
I write to print the messages of my mind onto the canvas of the world that I live in.
I write to live
Through the universes of my own mind.
To escape the tethers of the one I reside in.
I write to live.