I just really really really love Milton ok.

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I know I always write this, but this has been the longest uninspired period of my writing. I’m not a terribly serious writer or anything but it used to be something I sort of felt compelled to do? I can’t write anymore, mostly because I’m so fucking tired of the same things I always talk about. like I talk about:

  1. the moon
  2. the ocean
  3. deer/animals/but 4 reel mostly deer/also birds like ugh
  4. art (michelangelo, or whatevs)
  5. mythological characters
  6. etymology 
  7. space and shit
  8. gardens ‘n green shit
  9. fires/arson
  10. dreams/sleep
  11. writing 

I’m so tired of myself, and I don’t even want to write these tired poems anymore. They’re always addressed to someone, usually whatever stupid boy I’m pining over, (“oh sweetheart, tell me you know the tides the way you know the folds of my skin” VOM) 

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I miss you. Please reach out.

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I’m just so fucking confused by you, gotta say. This sounds petty but why haven’t you accepted my friend request on Facebook? This is the second time this shit has happened and it confuses the hell out of me. I know I matter to you. I know you value me, etc. so what the fuck?

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I can’t explain this ache but it is coming now and it makes it hard to be near you. It is the same things you say that cause this same ache, and I hate that this repetition continues. I hate that despite the antibodies of your past words, I am still infected with them every time, with equal severity. It wounds me, these things you say and I cannot tell you. But you’re lying to yourself as much as me. I wish that made me feel better. 

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I haven’t been able to write a single thing for months. No poems or anything else. This is my longest period of silence and I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I even have these two or three amorphous ideas in my head about potential poems but I can’t do anything with them; I’ve tried but I just can’t. I’m confused by this…????

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Happy Birthday to me! I’m an old lady now. I’m celebrating in Florence tonight so I feel pretty good.

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Terrible dream about me visiting him with my parents and then seeing there’s someone else so he ignored me totally. it was the weirdest fucking dream and I hate that now I’m thinking about him even when I’m sleeping. 

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i haven’t been able to write for three weeks, or something like that. ugh. 

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