Other Me

It keeps piling up like a tall white mountain
And its burning inside with the pain I keep hiding
It keeps pouring out
I'm certain I'm hearing something
Yes its crashing down
With another thunder clapping

Its not the same... But you don't see,
Another set of eyes looking back at you.
Its not, Its not the same...
But you wont feel the stinging lies it throws
Hidden inside, covered and buried
is the other Me.

Growing cold, standing still
The world's unshaken
Blow by blow I'm slowly falling apart
You tell me when its over,
You walk and begin to fade away.

CHORUS

I'll get up, I'll be fine
Hidden inside
I'll be better than ever before
The Other Me.

~Maybe I should give up on writing songs. I think I should focus on weirdly dramatic cliche plots? Hmmm... But I don't know.

xxx,
K <3

Want to Write Again

Hi guys!

So I realized, I can not stay away from the bright screen. :)) So no need for me to stop blogging. Currently trying to up my fashion blog's archive. I think that blog needs more options, direction, and choices.

Here's what I have been thinking, I have not written anything lately. Not even a school essay. I need a really good mentor to write again. I think. Its sad how when you write and you know its inadequate but your mentor would just shrug and say "Yes, this is good." or "This is perfect." I think no one would be able to better themselves if all mentors were like that... In my case all my mentors were like that. I mean I do study and I learned the best lesson when it comes to writing (which I will now share here)--- to be a writer one has to write. I think I learned that the hard way. I used to just think.

I'd stare at a blank paper and think. And I would think. And think and think. And reject that. In the end my not so good ideas that could possibly be great ideas were never written down. And so I learned to write. Anything on anything. Ideas. Emotions. Frustrations. Fears. Everything on anything actually. On paper that's clean, on paper with doodles and dirt. On cloth. On the wall. On the curtain. In my phone. Just writing.

But lately, I haven't. I have no notes in classes. I have no physical journal (I do read my previous ones and go, "wow, this was what I was like back then" or "so this is what I've been doing" or "I did this? Seriously? This is good.") I have not written anything lately. Not even a doodle on scratch paper when I'm bored in class. (Something I usually do. Is writing not a passion anymore? Can passions even fade away?)

I still believe that people will be judged by passion. And for someone as shallow and blank as I am. I fear. I long to write again.

xxx,
K <3