My poems and short stories are filled with rage, passion, lust, hatred and emotions that could make you just plain confused. I write so much about emotion, about the unknown and quite simply, I tend to write excessively about things that you can not see, but perhaps just feel.
It’s funny really, that I don’t vent much aloud, but when it comes time to put my pen to paper, I rant. I scribble. I just go at it. When I’m upset, I’ll use metaphors to show you how angry I am. When I’m ecstatic, I’ll use similes to instantly put smiles across your face.
When it comes to weather, scenery, or experiences, I can write about them all. But the difficulty lies at the get-go with those subjects. Even though they are all worthy of beautiful descriptions and details to make them original pieces of work, the passion behind those stories falls somewhat short due to my lack of love, hate, etc. If only seeing a movie so great moved me to the extent of “love”, I would probably be able to write a more moving movie review. But because I tend to surround myself with people, not abnormal places or moving pictures, my emotions are much more heightened when I am expressing my feelings toward other people.
Yeah, emotions drive me to do crazy things.
Emotions drive me to write crazy things.
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