I keep searching for the words resting in the pit of my stomach, the words that course through my veins and trickle out with every exhale. I’m trying to find them in every song, every book, every single damn poem and bit of graffiti scribbled out on the surfaces of the world. But, I can’t find it anywhere because nobody can quite say those words as I can. The only way I’ll ever be able to find them is if I grasp on tightly to them and attempt to lay them down perfectly on paper. I suppose that’s what writing is all about. Putting words on paper in an ongoing attempt to say exactly what you’re trying to say, to get those words out of your veins, except for I’m not really sure any of us ever succeeds at that.

23/2/2012 ♡ 5 notes ♡ Reblog