SparkNotes

I deleted all of my writing over the last three years. I had to. It was too depressing. Every poem, every essay, every simile, and stale metaphor, I had to erase this cycle. I had to purge the Past. The Past is gone. And, I relied far too much on the cyclical forms of expression, and dark subject matter. I am tired of writing about darkness, and all that is ugly and vile. It did nothing, but cloud my mind, and I cannot revisit it. It served a purpose. It was a necessary part of my catharsis. So here we begin a new page. I leave behind the notes of the puke gallery, the days spent in Brazil, the hours spent agonizing over men, who couldn't love me back, now, is the time to redefine rhyme.

I made a religion out of sorrow and whine, 

I was the preacher and the pulpit, I was the dark romantic, the tragic Bohemian, the lost soul, and those days are over, the days of nomadic self destruction have come to an end. And, I am tired of being a fringe spectacle, it's cheating, I am exhausted by recounting the close encounters with death, the brushes with Fate, I am weary of glamorizing destruction, I have given up glitter, laurels, and red lips, I have cooled, calmed, and settled, and I will not make myself the main attraction, I am not a freak show. I am a girl who has lived and survived the worst humanity has to offer, and rather than attract wonder, I'd rather convey what was lost, what is gained, and what remains than add faux glimmer and sparkle. I am not a book invented for you entertainment. I am not your SparkNotes.