writing
the issue is that i am obsessed with something i cannot have, and will never. i chase after this intangible, unqualifiable thing, in hopes that somehow i will learn to pack it up and weigh it on a bathroom scale and be satisfied, even though i know i will question every element, every comma, every single breath of the system and every infallible detail; it's too pale, too deep, too strong, too cracked, too broken.
the cruel truth is that i will never write exactly what i mean, never tell the story quite how i mean to, never share these experiences that i treasure so dearly and strive to immortalize.
it's impossible to write the pinnacle of right now.
and yet, we pursue. we pursue, and we write.
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