Yet I am still all by myself drinking (good) whiskey and on Tumblr.
I wish I wrote the way I thought
With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
a lot more
than I should
I can’t even talk about it on tumblr, and this is killing me.