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THE GLASS CHILD

CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON

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Author.  Songwriter. Dreamer. Wanderer.

THE GLASS CHILD

CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON

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Author.  Songwriter. Dreamer. Wanderer.

i’m not trying to be cute, i’m trying to be honest.

i’m not trying to be cute, i’m trying to be honest.


I said that to a boy I was writing a song with the other day but he seemed to prefer something cute than honest

blah blah

I just find it tiring. Pretty things everywhere singing cute things, like,

I’d rather tell you a truth that is ugly and dirty

than a lie that would make me cute.


I don’t think I’m really happy yet and sometimes I think money will make me happy but does no money really make me unhappy?

Sometimes I want to become something that no one thinks is cool

so I could become really great at it and be the best at something and I wouldn’t really care that no one thinks it’s cool because I would know that I was great at it.


I don’t need people to see me anymore. I can play you my music, but I don’t need you to like it. I don’t need you to read my words or watch my speeches. I just want to do it. whatever. I can be something else but I’m gonna keep writing anyway.


Can you become really really great at something if you don’t need anyone else to think you’re really really great?

Like, I want to be a really really great writer, but I don’t need you to agree with me.

Do you think Bukowski cared? Do you think Anaïs Nin would have stopped writing her diary if someone had told her she wasn’t a good writer? or Petrarch, do you think he would have stopped writing his 366 sonnets, to write himself out of heartbreak, if someone had told him he had no future career as a writer?

No, he wrote ‘cause he needed to and that’s the only reason he’s studied and researched in every literature course on the planet 646 years after his death.


Yeah, I do this. Learn meaningless details about great writers because I find them great and think maybe one day i can be one of them. Write something really really great and be studied by people who prefer something honest than pretty.

I don’t think very many pretty things make me feel a lot but the truth always does. I also don’t think i’m really very happy yet but writing always makes things better. It won’t make me any money but does no money really make me unhappy if I at least can write every day?


I think I’ll be happier writing with no money than not writing with a lot of money.




Read some more poetry?


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