Every once in a while I’ll feel like the whole world lights up and suddenly I write pages and pages and I feel like someday I’ll make it, but then I blink and it fades away, and then I feel guilty for letting it.
And I want to live on the edge, just to be awake. Go to a bar, because people LIVE there, run around the abandoned parts of town, drink too much wine, just so I can keep going.
It’s so weird, like living so many lives at once and not at all at the same time
I don’t know if that makes any sense, but that’s what is.