nothing frustrates me more
than erasing the words i write, just because i thought they wouldn't make sense. it's almost funny, because when i read every erased sentence in my head, i realise how i have used the same thing in a different manner, so that it falls into the definition of 'sensible' to me. that's how we function, don't we? we want everything to make sense. but this time 'round, i'm just going to write, without it making sense to me, or to the world. i'm gonna pen down what comes to me. because the shore cannot reach the wave, the wave has to reach to the shore. this time 'round i know, that with every erased letter, something inside me, will die.
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