If you’re anything like me, you’ll understand deeply that the poetry struggle is real. It’s a galactic behemoth, and we but teeny, tiny atoms trying to navigate its interstellar medium:
1. You’ve read a beautiful poem that sings to your soul in such a way that you feel inspired to write your own. It was only three lines long, it can’t be that hard, can it?
2. What the actual f— is a haiku!!??
3. You’ve finally completed the first line, but you’re so absolutely buggered by your herculean effort that you’ve descended into a pool of infinite blackness and despair
4. A few minutes later and you’re done. And wow, your poem is AMAZING!!! Like shit, dude, you should have been writing poems all along!!
5. Except, your poem is just not complicated enough, so you jump over to thesaurus.com to scoop up some meandering and unnecessary adjectives
6. But now you can’t even understand what the hell you’ve written and it’s all so confusing and a mess and you don’t know what to do and why the hell is life so damn complicated so how about you just eat the bloody thing
7. You give your poem to a friend to read, but all they can do is laugh. You secretly begin plotting their demise
8. The next day you stare at your poem FOR HOURS AND HOURS trying to figure out how to make it a tribute to the new golden age of modern poetry and thus win the Nobel prize in literature. But you can’t, because it sucks
9. A few years later, completely out of the blue and without any effort at all, a perfect poem magically pops up in your head. A poem so beautiful that it sings to your heart.