Wordsareallthatmostofushaveleft - Tumblr Posts

ghost writers in eight voices

i. these words are not mine, and neither is that voice in your ear that sings them to you.

ii. I know how the ghost writers felt creating stories that were not their own, writing words that they did not say or feel or mean. it’s the struggle of the lyricist behind closed doors who pours their unfelt grief and heartache into someone else’s lies.

iii. no one tells the truth in this creative industry; depression and misery and sorrow and fear and death are not romantic in the slightest. death is not pretty, falling is not graceful, misery is not composed and fear is all-consuming, all-enveloping.

iv. can you imagine the ghost writers in a conference together, a room full of people so unused to speaking their own mind that their voices crack and lips tremble at the thought? it’d be the quietest room you’d ever been in because once you forgo your voice for someone else’s, you forget how to speak on your own. it takes a lifetime to remember the way you lilt and how you speak, the words you use and the ones you don’t and the familiar cadence of your mind.

v. all those ghost writers are in a room somewhere with the lyricists who write songs for other people, learning how to be their own again and lord, how it scares them.

vi. I’d be scared too if I had to wrap my mouth around the strange words, unfamiliar sounds of things that used to be yours but were no longer; like kissing someone you used to love on the mouth only they don’t taste the same.

vii. those words are the embodiment of j'aimais vous, the feeling you should know something but don’t like how a voice sounds familiar in all the wrong ways

viii. it’s the ghost hidden in the walls of the room, tossing and turning in its sleep as it remember what it feels like deep down buried inside to know something, and to claim it as your own.