I am feeling a lot of things right now I think it's because my period is coming soon?? Anyway. Saw a post on Tumblr of  Gabriel Gracía Márquez and I quote 'since I was born I had known I would be a writer. I had the will the ability the capacity to be a writer. I have never stoppe writing or imagined doing anything else. Though I never believed I could live on it, I was ready to die for it.' 

Look at me. Look at how disgusting I am. I actually want to make money out of writing, out of words. I should've known that I could never live on writing. Live off maybe. But live on, defintely no. Am I ready to die for words? I think I might be. Perhaps. In fact I think so. Yes. I think I might be ready to die for writing. So now that I'm commited to the bone, teach me then, how do I turn my blood into ink? Teach me how not to mock at fellow writers teach me to be humble teach me to be self aware to understand I will never be good enough, I will never match up. It is the only way I can improve my craft. Teach me to stop straddling between genuinety and pretentiousness. Teach me to swallow and choke and fight and bleed. Teach me to absorb and wound and taint and bleed. Teach me hurt my own skin with my own tongue. Teach me to feel and process and translate into ink. I've been feeling so much. So so much I feel like I am going to die. Every night I think I am going to die. I am not suicidal but I feel like I am in the process of dying. Teach me how to take this plate full of feelings and trade them for words, fall into m palms like beads, coins. You see I am begging. I am begging for coins I am begging for words. I am nothing and I have nothing only my hands and sometimes my heart and not even my mind. My mind does not even belong to me. I am willing to bleed and I am afraid of blood. But I want to bleed and I will bleed. I will bleed words and I will have my blood turn into ink.