Illiterate insects and an anthill of inspiration.

bookie work

Why write? you ask. Here are some silly and spontaneous thoughts, from me to you. 

Writing is a weapon against loneliness, anxiety, depression, hopelessness.

Little black letters marching with purpose across the page, hauling compassion from one confused soul to another.

You’re not alone in there, with those thoughts.

You’re a perfectly normal weirdo in a palpitating anthill full of other weirdos. (Note: they’re acting busy to trick you).

Writing evenly distributes the burden.

Once written, those thoughts ain’t so heavy. Everyone’s carrying them.

So, my sad, sunny, insane friends - make like an erudite ant, shoulder that universal burden - and write. About your experiences, your trials, your tears, your fears, your inexcusable Jason Derulo fetish, your moments of ecstasy.

Lift yourself and others with words; words like a hoard of empathetic ants.

And don’t blame me if they bite you on the ass. Some people like that kinky arthropod stuff.

David Attenborough does. He won’t mind me telling you.

Hey, thanks for reading. Go write something.