there’s a small buzzing in my head that says in order to be great i have to be lonely
i once heard lenny bruce say he would be all alone and i was never certain if he meant for it to be part of his stand up or as a cry for help
and now it stays with me on my best and worst days
the great writers of the past had nothing but ink and empty homes and what if no matter how much light the window brings in it’ll never be enough warmth to trick me into thinking someone else cares for me?
what if my legacy is my insurmountable seclusion that rivals even dickinson in measure?
it’s easier to live in a house of ghosts that will never leave than to invite in souls that aren’t mine to create
it feels over bloated to say that i want to be great more than i want to be loved because how do i explain to people that those words mean the same thing to me?
i want my words to be worth more than my body
i want to live my life quietly but not insignificantly — to be alone but never be lonely
all alone – sabryn jones
