#sofuckingbeautiful

Gluttony Never Looked So Gorgeous

I realized that I hadn’t felt like creating anything in a long while. Nothing but boring, whining journal entries that are more of a necessity now than a creative outlet. But a few days ago, I started working on my collage wall. Over half a year living here and I still hadn’t touched it, but on May 3rd, I finally felt it. I finally felt like creating something, even if it’s only made of paper scraps and leftovers.

I wonder if I am getting better. I wonder if there had been some sort of damper on this one part of me that I had somehow failed to notice until now. Was I really so broken that I could not do the things that make me happiest, the things I used to live for? I could do it- I could write the most beautiful prose even when I was scratching to get out of my own skin, but these past months have been a different variety of emptiness. It hasn’t been a romanticized, beautiful pain, but rather a lack of feeling, of meaning. As if the words for the feelings I meant to express were for once too obvious to put down. Nothing to decipher, just silence from potential employers and a desperate, broken girl turning to a pizza shop.