Sunday, October 4, 2009

When I cannot create, I'll be done for

Where have you gone? Where's the girl who put together the really fly outfits? Now you just wear whatever fits, whatever matches, without even thinking about it.

Where's the girl who used to write poetry? The poetry that was honest and deep and true? The words used to come out of you, pour out of you. When's the last time you even got down two lines of honest work, or work at all?

Where's the girl who used to plan out photographs and then model in them? They weren't the best quality in terms of mega pixels, but they had so much character. Now no matter how hard you try, it just... sucks.

And what happened to envisioning those crazy images and staying up all night on Photoshop to make the vision come to life? Now all you see is blank.

Everything that ever was you is gone. Who stole that away? Was it the Lexapro? I gotta know. Was it the Seroquel? Certainly you can't just outgrow your inner being. You can't outgrow your soul. You can't outgrow the very thing that is you. The heart of you. YOU, goddammit. Can you?

What happened? I miss her.

I miss you.

I miss me.

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