"i walk making up phrases; sit, contriving scenes; am in short in the thick of the greatest rapture known to me." - virginia woolfe
i am a person of few words. even now, i find it difficult to construct some sort of interesting reflection for this quote. i find it frustrating that the first part of this passage describes what i am not: i have words, ideas, thoughts, but in my head they don't come together. i can't use ideas from the world, analogies, metaphors, to make my writing mean something and strike my reader, like i, as a reader, have been struck many times before. does this mean i am not currently in some sort of great rapture? am i missing out? maybe i am a part of a million other raptures, but not this one.
my writing is very literal. i have difficulties straining my thoughts through some sort of metaphorical sieve that will hide my direct thoughts and emotions. IB english has taught me to critically analyze and retell this analysis in the clearest way possible. this has helped and hindered me. my writing is word vomit, with no tangible wall to hide behind. to me, that is a very scary thing.