I want to see elephants

Somedays,

I want to dive up into the sky and splash around for a little while and then just float and look back up at the earth and all the trees pointing down at me and all the people laying looking right back up at me.

Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go.

E. E. Cummings

I would rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach 10,000 stars how not to dance.

E. E. Cummings

"and the sky'd be so big that it broke my soul"

I want to go home;

I want to smell the sea.

just.to.say.something.

So the key to writing is writing, right? And you're supposed to write what you know. But what about when I don't know what I know, 'cause the world's going crazy and I can't seem to find who I'm supposed to be today. But hey. Writing's a release, yeah? So why do I feel trapped in this cylce where my knowledge is sapped and I laugh all the time, but I can't find a rhyme. Except that one. Which, frankly, doesn't even count. And it almost makes me miss the heartache or the causes of it because I can't justify pain when everything's going ok. "Who cares if it hurts like hell as long as it makes a good story?" Well maybe I don't have a story. Not anymore. Not yet. And all I can do is rewrite or sound clever. And all I want to do is feel something. The way I used to. The way I wrote it.