should a person who is no good at telling stories get so frustrated when he can't write? i haven't been able to really write anything for a very long time and i feel like my essence is withering. i need some juice. something to spark that first sentence. that first thought. my friend amy told this guy at denny's the other night that i was a really good writer. that i have a gift. i think the word amazing was used but as a friend of mine leah once told me, that word has almost lost all meaning from overuse. and i was thinking to myself - why? why would anybody think that about my writing? it's average, if not subpar in my own mind. i used to consider myself a writer before i started reading alot. then i realized i'm like a little toddler with building blocks calling himself a mason. maybe that's why i can't write. maybe i feel like it won't do any good. what if i've said all that i was meant to say in these awkward, choppy phrases and skewed philosophical rants. i definitely don't consider myself a writer anymore. what is a writer anyway? one who writes? to put it into perspective - we don't really refer to someone who sings but cannot carry a tune as a singer. sinatra was a singer. conor oberst is a singer. follow? by the same measure, we can't rightly call someone who writes but does not write well a writer.

i am not a writer. i will never be a writer. i don't have the discipline or the talent or the drive to make myself become a writer. but i do have the passion. i honestly do love to write. a part of me is missing when i don't write. i've felt incomplete these past few months. i haven't been using my words. i haven't been sharing myself with others. and part of being complete is giving yourself away. and giggity giggity.