small world. loud thoughts.

all writers are mad.
we come from the tormented depths of our own minds
in which we create
multiple realities
to escape a world too small for our loud thoughts.
and people,
god, they are the worst
but they are our greatest inspirations–
the scorned lovers, the untrustworthy friend, the person who broke our soul
and the savior who put us back together again–
we write about them all.
we write about what they meant to us, how they impacted us,
and we certainly don’t cut corners
when painting pictures with our words.
we leave it all out there
expressing and exposing
the bottomless pits we are.
i’m so tired of not being able to turn it off,
of constantly absorbing the emotions of others
all the while being grateful for both this blessing
and this goddamn curse.

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4 thoughts on “small world. loud thoughts.

  1. This made me think of the reason why I write. For the same reasons. I’m an introverted writer with empathic abilities. This world is too mundane to live without alternate realities of the tormented. Having to absorb people’s negativity like a sponge encasing me in foreign depression outside of my realm of comprehension. A blessing in disguise. A curse born of light.

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