Sometimes I feel like you're going through a lot with your writing. It feels empty, like you're hesitating to go further
yeah, my writing lacks depth. It lacks momentum, it lacks density; it lacks any form of instrumental value to the reader that can be measured as effect, change, or introspection. It's spontaneous and rather useless when you strip all the lace and pretty frill from it. I can bully and coerce and compel it to realize its true potential by unfastening, loosening, and untying descriptive words from their previously occupied position within my works, leaving it bare and raw like how some like it. Unzipping and unlacing it from the restraints that shackle it from being fully appreciated by the reader. Or maybe I'm just a tease, purposefully holding back under thick layers due to timidity or to echo the delicious anonymity of not having an identity on this website. You wouldn't know and I wouldn't know either. Everything on this blog is an ill fit, unsuitably dressed and dolled up for an occasion or reason I nor you would know.
idk why im holding back. what exactly am I fighting against??
