Today I felt sad because I have so much inspiration and willpower to be creative but for some reason I can't put it to action. I wanted to go to Amherst to buy zines and read them and get inspiration but I kind of knew that wasn't going to happen so I took out my journal in Astronomy, my most boring class, and started to write. I didn't have any plan of what to write but what ended up on the page was a list of my fears. I don't want to write them here even though I've already shared them with some people, but I will write one. The fear is fear that I wasn't meant to create art. I did write a poem today though, and it's the first poem I've ever written not for an assignment, which really means it's my first poem ever written. I'm not very proud of it. I already let three people read it, which I kind of regret because I need to learn to keep some of my writing private. I don't think I would include this poem in an anthology my poems created after my death. People say there are no rules to poetry and you don't need to know how to write them to write them but I disagree. I'm so afraid that after I write my words and call it finished, I won't know for sure if I put them like that because it felt right or because that's what I thought it was supposed to look like. Do you know what I mean?
I feel like I'm not doing enough here: like there is so much to take advantage of and I'm going to miss something important. But at the same time I'm learning so much about myself, what interests me, and what I value in other people. I miss everyone a lot! I'm seeing some of my friends this weekend and I'm really excited. I know the dynamic will be different but not that much different. It was really warm out today. I thought it was going to rain but it never did. I'm glad I found a way out of my temporary blogging/ writing slump. I think it was reading old literary magazines in my Writing Butterfield Journal class that inspired it. Maybe I'll write another poem before I fall asleep.
Depends on if I can find my musical words or not.