I cannot write poetry
without thinking about what it is
to write poetry.
In the same way
I cannot be in love
without thinking about what it is
to be in love.
———-
Love and poetry are the same in that they are these abstract ideas rooted in emotion. I feel them before thinking about them, but try and think before expression of either. But both are about expression. Without externalization, without sharing, they are empty and useless facets of a person; beautiful, yes, but futile and ultimately frustrating.
[entire entry taken from my journal earlier today]