I am trash pt 2

Once again, I am trash.

Wednesday was nice. Spent time writing stuff I won't use. Wallowed in self pity/despair.

I now understand why a lot of famous writers are drunks. Joshua Bennett told me to write my truth, but my truth sucks. It sucks giant popsicles. To be able to look at yourself and how much you suck you must have to be smashed. But I think I kind of like it. I'm disgusting.

It is kind of fun to look at things and say "this is how this is for me" and write about it. Try and bring what you feel and make it accessible to people who are not you. That is surprisingly hard. I like people and I like to communicate, but I think I suck at it?? It's very hard to find someone who knows what you mean a lot of the time. And writing is a way to bridge that gap. It doesn't have to be about a specific incident, but if the feeling behind it is there and true, someone should understand you.

It's really nice to have another writing project around. Kylah is the bomb diggity. She understands my deep self loathing. She works way harder and way better than I do though. That's a little annoying, but it's nice to have something to aspire to.

I have now decided I will not go to sleep before 1 this week. It is way easier to write when kind of tired and on the brink of breaking. I think maybe it's because there are fewer boundaries? More vulnerable? Easier to reach that stupid glimpse of truth that is so damn precious? If I write one true thing this whole month I will be freaking ecstatic.

A large part of me feels like I haven't done enough to write true things. Or that Im not interesting enough. Or that Im not old enough. Or that I'm just not enough. I don't know. I feel like I need something I don't have and can't get.