He Said:
Her tongue feels like velvet. Her teeth, another story. She likes to bite. I hate being bitten, a hangover from my sandbox days. We're at an impasse. She thinks it's cute. I think she's cute. The biting, I still find annoying. I suggest a muzzle. I pretend it's a joke but I'm hoping this time, she'll bite.
She Said:
She Said:
I realised this morning, in my head I pretend if I just had the time, I would spend it seeking new material for my writing. Read more books, watch more movies, visit more galleries. But the truth is, I avoid it. I shy away from unlocking creativity even though I feel it simmering, sometimes seeping out of me, in the pockets of silence, begging for attention as it burns through the gaps in my time. But the truth is - it scares me. The abyss. That like Alice, once I fall down the rabbit hole, I will doubtfully emerge from it in one recognisable piece. Once, I locked myself in my apartment for weeks, tap, tap tapping away at my keyboard, losing myself in words. It felt cathartic, but chipped at my soul. These days, it's just easier not to think at all. While I once took delight in the untidy prose meandering through my mind, I prefer to ignore it. It just hurts less. Now, everything hurts less.
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