the awesome/terrifying freedom

out here, somewhere, figuring it all out.


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i've never really had a muse before. i think a muse is something different than 'those who you despise so much that the only way to express yourself is through vengeful, hatefully creative forms of art.'

i've had a lotta those.

but what happens when like, you like someone so much that you hear trumpets and french horns and see choruses of tinkerbells hitting miniature pinatas filled with glitter? what then?

i find i am inadequately experienced to write happy songs. the closest i can come is to say something like 'it's amazing how you make me not want to gouge my eyes out,' or 'even now i don't want to kill you.'

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  • 5: the man of genius

  • 4: blunders & absurdities

  • 3: conservative after dinner

  • 2: what lies below

  • 1: where there is no path

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