What are you looking for?
Featured Topics
Select a topic to start reading.
Typically,
I am unable to articulate my
vaguely poetic thoughts
Into proper words.
Letters and ideas,
fleeting and fading.
Hardly anything more than a dream.
Mundane things in the real world
invade my mind,
and are transformed into fluttering flying letters,
Floating on a ribbon I can faintly hear,
but can never quite see.
Any time my mind’s eye reaches out to touch it,
It falls apart, hardly in its grasp,
escaping from my conscious thoughts.
Many of my innermost thoughts,
carved out of simple everyday tasks and feelings,
often escape me in this way.
I hear the idea of a word,
the whisper of a phrase,
and as I attempt to grab hold of it,
Suddenly,
All at once,
It vanishes.
Never to be recalled,
Or properly thought out or built upon.
The whisper of the idea
of a sip of coffee
I can hardly remember.
The concept of mourning the loss of a love
that was never truly lost.
You know, it might interest you to know that
not only did this writing also almost disappear in that way,
but it’s been rediscovered and edited by me again.
I was an entirely different person when I first wrote this
excuse for a poem.
I mean, really, this isn’t a poem.
It has no structure, no rhyming, no hidden meaning.
It’s supposed to be taken at face value. Nothing beyond that. And I’m sure we can agree that phony metaphors lacking any genuine thought, consideration, or meaning,
do not make a poem.
And, god, the absolute pretentiousness.
It’s genuinely astonishing.
Using words that are fancier than normal ones don’t make you sound smarter.
It makes you sound like a fucking jackass.
Which I was.
So, you know, I guess there’s proof to back up that claim.
But I’m not done yet.
Throwing your terrible figurative language into some undefined sea of nonsense and adding some literally meaningless line spacing doesn’t make you an intellect.
I mean, read this omitted part from the original:
“You could say I am of the poetic, eloquent sort.
I hesitate to consider the word intelligent,
but I shan’t deny that possibility.”
Are you kidding me? Who says SHAN’T??
Why am I speaking like a 16th century British douchebag??
I seriously cannot make this up, I actually wrote that and thought it was a good and accurate representation of myself.
Not only that, but it was wedged in there in what I think might be the single most unnatural way possible. Like I just HAD to get it in there that I’m sooo smart and special for writing this absolutely grody not-poem that’s trying entirely too hard to sound philosophical and interesting.
You’re not writing fine literature sweetie, you’re just in honors english, pull yourself together.
But really, how embarrassing is that?
I’ll tell you: extremely embarrassing.
I really thought I was the next Aristotle or Socrates or something.
I can tell you one thing for sure, and that’s that I wasn’t. I was far from it.
I was a loser who had loser friends, and being around people who encourage you to be terrible.. Well guess what that makes you? Go on guess, it’s real easy.
.
.
.
That’s right, it makes you terrible!
Granted, I wasn’t THAT bad. I didn’t really think I was better than anyone else, I really didn’t think I was anything that I wasn’t, other than pretty. But you know what I really was?
I was a major cunt.
I was hellbent on being “intimidating” and ”unapproachable” and it reeally made it hard for me when I realized that it was the worst idea I’d ever had.
People think I still act like that, and I don’t!
I mean unless I have a valid reason I’m not gonna be rude to somebody I don’t know.
Anyways, thank god I was never this pretentious in real life,
only online where not only could the whole world see it, but it was permanently burned into every internet-accessing device on Earth.
Perf.
I do feel kinda bad for bashing who I used to be though.
Even though she was embarrassing and awkward
at least like, more than I am now,
she was still me.
We’ve got the same name, same birthday, same eyes.
And it’s not like I wasn’t smart, or that I’m not still smart, but I wasn’t nearly as gifted and like “above other’s intellect” as I thought I was.
There’s a lot about me that’s changed mentally, emotionally, and physically, but there’s also a lot that’s the same.
My eyes are still brown.
I still draw.
I still have some of the same friends.
I still get nervous talking to new people.
That took a lot more effort than I was expecting actually, so I guess we’re not all that similar, but my point still stands.
But even if we are the same in some ways I’m still allowed to be embarrassed of how I acted.
Anyway, I think I’m finished with my interjection or whatever. I’ll let you have the original ending to the “poem”, but you might want to go back a little, cause I didn’t adjust it to make sense after this rambling bit. I actually didn’t adjust it at all, aside from the omission of that absolutely horrendous part I quoted earlier. eugh.
I think, maybe,
this time something compelled me
to be faster than the fleeting nature of the ribbon.
I suppose I could feel pain in regards to those lost thoughts,
those potential poems.
Occasionally I can barely recognize
the ghost of a sob.
But how can you mourn
something you hardly knew?
If you see a comment that is unsupportive or unfriendly, please report it using the flag button.
More Posts
-
what does this mean..?o
okay so me and my friend stayed after school just to walk around and I saw this really cute guy and so we kept walking past him just so i can look at him. He wa...
-
How do i get through this 🥲 (pls help)
This is probably the most embarrassing things I've ever done. Long story short, we had an assignment where we have to do some statistical analysis and stuff. Th...