October 22nd, 2010

I'm much to impatient. There are still 9 days before NaNoWriMo begins, tis much to long. I find focus difficult, for I would rather be plotting than sitting in Economics or trying to graph parabolas. I've been in such a good mood, but my thoughts all seem negative, spewing out when I've a utensil in my hand. I don't feel like myself.

The feelings counteract the actions
what sort of misnomer must I fight?
Jumping like a fool yet weeping inside,
and for what?
Many are as I, feeling lesser than their peers,
ugly and blemished,
grotesque and repulsive.
Many lack any sort of belonging feeling,
a sort of niche they've carved out for them self.
They don't complain.
I shall not either.

Write Long & Edit,
Sarah