i feel like i have some very beautiful/meaningful prosetry (that's what i'm calling my writing now) sitting on the tip of my tongue. i can't even tell what it's about, but i feel an urge to say something, to write. whatever it is, proudly perched upon that point, must be important. it's waiting for something. leaning out over the edge, but holding on.

maybe i'm afraid.

little pieces pop out and i still can't grasp what it is i'm trying to say. it almost seems like fiction. *vomit* the last fiction i wrote had a lot to do with me being a princess, etc. etc.

that reminds me... you know those young authors contests in elementary school? well i wrote a book for that once and another for a class project. i actually won some sort of award for the YA book. but, good grief! it seems painfully obvious to me from reading those books that i was a seriously disturbed little girl. the YA book was about a group of dinosaurs who started a rock band i think. the ended up eating each other in the end. mass carnage on the last page. the other book had something to do with dreams. there was a nuclear explosion for the finale.

kill them all, i say.

oh god... whatever it is that's running through my head has the rhythm of an actual poem. much like the raven. it probably wants to rhyme.

what is up with me?