oh, i really don't know what i can actually do. i can't dance, i can't design, i can't take pretty photographs, i can't act, i can't play an instrument. i am only capable of writing about how i can't do anything. yeah, there's a talent to be jealous of. it's quite frustrating feeling so angry and pissed off and helpless and not being able to express it. i want them to think that i write about reality and i want them to fucking mean it and i wish i didn't have to write about how i want to write because, now, that's just fucking stupid. you are one of the admirers. i don't want to be an admirer, i want to be admired. i want to be fucking beautiful. i want people to read what i write and feel like it's something different and feel like my writing is different and that i truly mean it. i want them to know that without having to explain to them that they should. i always thought no matter what you wrote that as long as it was honest, it would turn out beautiful, but, look, this is me being honest, alright, and ,well, it's really not beautiful at all.
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