Shitty Fact #2,847,942: I’m not the only unique starfish in the sea; there are many people who want to be a professional writer, a famous author. And we each think we’re the special one. We each think we’re the prettiest fucking raindrop gracing the earth with our presence. Doesn’t matter. We all fall into the same ocean. We all drown with each other. I’m not unique, creative, or the next Great American Author. I’m just another desperate bipolar schizophrenic with a pen.

Unrelated but related side-note: I finished a short story for NaNoWriMo. I was pretty excited when I started it, but by the end I realized it’s a piece of shit. And not because it hasn’t been edited. It’s just plain shit….It is an odd, out-of-body experience to read your own work and see it for what it truly is…

#woeisme #idon’tcarethati’mwhining #nowiwanttowatchmetropolisforsomereason #thisisnothowyouusehashtags

Angel with the Robotic Arms
JCD Kerwin

we’re all just broken ‘bots
that walk
in sad, grey lines,
in time
with each other.
but with each new tick
and metallic tock
of the Doomsday Clock,
we’re pulled off shelves
and bought,
second-chance
from second-hand
shops. we’ve got
no regrets except
that we gave up on ourselves
long before this world.

(Dec. 2014)