I’m going to write tomorrow.

And I’m not going to fake my emotional content.  I don’t need to mask my tears with cleverly written phrases.  My prose doesn’t need to pose.  Words within are honest.  Raw.  Vulnerable to thought.  They cut like a knife.  I have no hole to fill with a 10th grade vocabulary lesson.  Do you know what “existential” means? I do.  And unless it is the best way to describe my flow, it’s not going into my writing.  I want to penetrate the audience with my honesty.  I don’t care about vague descriptions because my lines get you higher than cocaine.  The only thing being overthought is everyone else’s response to my shockworthy notations.  So take your flowery journals and your ten million dollar dictionary.  I have my scrap paper and experience to work off of. 

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