I don't know what it was. Maybe it was a friend's comment that had me roiling in rage. Maybe it was my family's disapproval of the kind of poems I wrote. Or maybe it was simply the same loathing that made me burn every physical poetry book I ever wrote.

Whatever it was, something made me delete the last poetry book on Wattpad.

I don't know why. I'd like to continue on with this book, maybe continue to only chapter 100, maybe continue forever. It's just something inside of me that wants to make me keep trying, keep writing. I realise I'm not the same person I was when I began this book a year and a half ago. But still, I'm a writer, and still I write poetry.

I am ashamed of my poetry, and I'm ashamed to admit that I am ashamed of it. I write too much, I realise. I write the words I cannot speak, and I also realise that I can't speak much. I hate writing poetry, if only for the guilt it delights in setting within me.

I'm sorry. These are my words.