The Writer — Scribblers Arena

In life there are some who pay close attention to details, they are silent watchers and have the ability to understand unspoken words. They do not pay much attention to the words you speak as much as they do to your eyes and body language. They feel your anxiousness, frown at your hidden pain and […]

via The Writer — Scribblers Arena

This is the second time Zena has shared this poem on Scribblers Arena (or the second time I’ve seen it come up in my reader feed anyway). I wrote a comment on it the first time I saw it.

Because the poem implies that if someone can sense the unspoken words, they must be a writer. This kind of gutted me, because I don’t consider myself a writer at all. I can write because I am literate, but I kind of resent that only writers can… have that ability. To read between the lines of people… But people don’t have lines! They just are! And…

I really shouldn’t be ranting or anything. I’m just very sensitive and vulnerable right now. (Or at least at the time I originally wrote this. I tend to… schedule shit out… to attempt to spread shit out)

Red. Red is my favourite colour.

Categories: mmmk

3 replies »

    • I like to think I’m a mystic. Or something beautifully magical and mysterious like that. But I fear I’m not really that either. I’m just… boring… plain old me. I’m sooooooo mundane and… bleugh. I like to write, but I’m not that great at it. I’m so… spontaneous and superfluous… Consistently inconsistent, chaotic and unnecessary. I just wanted to… join in. Be remembered for something, leave a mark somewhere.. and not just in some person’s memory.. I wanted to exist somewhere outside of people’s heads… And everything is a tool, everything serves a purpose. Perhaps it’s just my way to use the wrong tools for every job.

      Liked by 1 person