This is a lyric from Dodie, an artist I’ve been into for a while. It made me think of how I sometimes bullshit diary entries to fill up pages, to take up space in a journal that I didn’t buy, with a pen that I stole, on a table with a cover that looks like spring but feels like winter.
I’ve lost the passion I once had for writing. Maybe I never really had it to begin with. Maybe I just liked the idea of being a writer. Of being depressed and isolated, with an alcohol problem and a tendency to over-analyze everything.
I look at my journal with the clean-cut pages and the softbound cover and worry that my words aren’t good enough to fill it. I think maybe it should go to someone worthy. Someone with better handwriting and great content. I feel guilty sometimes for filling pages with nonsense words. But don’t writers advise writing nothing to get to something?
p.s.
Check out Dodie’s new album if you’re into soft girl music 🙂

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