Two Hips and a Hooray

Some days when the world is pretty much the same in the peculiar sense that it is not, I like to think that I do think of the worlds I’ve rumbled and jumbled under my eyelids. There’s a Captain America shield to my right – a story, among other stories. Books – at least the books you know – stand out to you because they’re known and they are loved. I’ve loved worlds and I can’t tell if it’s healthy or not – the longing and the desire – but it dresses me with joy. Unquantifiable joy I grasp till I can’t – euphoria I can hold before the truth and the days of this world blind me back to disparate (and sometimes unwanted) knowledge.

Yesterday I wrote one drabble and hiP HIP HOORAY to that! But now I can feel how competitive and so damn little I am as I have skimmed past a page of laudable writing by a dear blogger. There is pride, now that I think about it, when the screen had flashed through my eyes and thoughts. I identify as writer (and I just had to italicize that word so much because I marvel in it) and I live in a world where there are many others of that too. But then I speed through blog to blog and I know – I’ve always known – that there are lovelier, simpler bridges of words that have been constructed SO WELL that they are so gorgeously complicated in a way it makes me dizzy to comprehend. I envy so much.

One thing: I am a cruel vine sprawled out over lives of my loves, and I am a witch hissing for languages and the breath of vacation. Another thing: A twisted world doesn’t need a Cinderella, but she stays because she’s Cinderella.

If it hasn’t dawned on you yet, I want to speak out that my words do not make sense unless you understand – from beginning to end. I try not to make reading hard for you. But the world doesn’t make writing easy for me. I’m struggling, and I love you. Perhaps you could allot time for reading? :)