I know it makes no sense. I know when I drink my writing suffers. I know that right now I'm doing a little too much stream of consciousness. But I honestly don't give a fuck.
I don't know why other people write/blog. (PS I still fucking hate that word.) But I do know why I write. I write for me. I say (almost) whatever it is I want/need to say. And then I toss it out there into the ether and it feels kinda good. I'm not sorry and I'm not ashamed and I'm not embarrassed and I'm not worried.
In the words of a Mr. Joey Comeau: "We're all going to die. I intend to deserve it."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment