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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Other · #2329896
"I sit and spew my guts out to the open air, cause no one wants to hear a drunken fool."
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Ark Blitz

Author: Ark Blitz

Emotions flow through the ink that leaves my pen, a volatile cocktail. My words, my characters, all come together. My stories are like a knife, one that I use to cut my stomach open, spilling my insides out to the world. While my mouth may be silent, my hands are not, I will not suffer in silence. The blood that pours out is my emotions, revealing them for the world. But to me it’s better than ripping me open to see what’s inside, examining me like a rat, sifting through the blood and guts to figure me out. I don’t need help, especially not from people who tear me apart to do it. My intestines are my characters, all parts of me, my spirit broken into isolated parts. With every new story I put a piece of me into the characters, always letting the blood soak into the pages. All of my work is filled with blood and tears, the tears not being figurative. Spilling my guts makes me feel alive, like I am doing something, not letting my feelings burn through me. Music functions like adrenaline, allowing the energy from it to let lightning flow through my veins into the ink. The ink will never stop flowing because there won’t ever be emotions that want to stay inside me, whether it be rage or love, they want to be let out. I won’t stop writing, unless emotions stop flowing. I won’t hide behind characters in this story, just this once. I am Ark, and I am a writer. So watch me spill my guts to the open air. May my blood do something, may it soothe or at least entertain, may it do something. Nobody would listen to me if it wasn’t like this, because no one wants to listen to a mentally ill idiot.
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