Faulkner first said this about writing, then Ginsberg, then Stephen King. It’s one of my mantras, but why?
Let’s forget about writing. Kill your darlings but kill your enemies too. Not literally, but the ones we carry in our hearts. Forgive them by yourself, and cut your own heart into a million pieces.
I feel ashamed and dirty when receiving love. What is that about?
Whoever told us that we are undeserving of love has left a trace on us. Its our duty to find it and wipe us clean. A dusty teacup can’t help but turn bitter.
Let’s give space to exist to all denied feelings. I am hoping to create a sanctuary for all of them in my body. I have been too ashamed to feel for years. Now that I have wiped other people’s pain off of me, maybe I will not need someone else to be happy. To survive, sure.
I can’t fill this giant landmine inside of me with other people. Maybe I need to even out the area around it, and
talk share paint write create.