so i’ve been busting out short stories left and right, and it feels so amazing. they’re really dark and twisted, but hey, that’s just the way my mind works. what was kinda embarrassing for me was that i wrote my first sex scene on thursday. i personally think it’s well done, which might say a lot, cuz i have ridiculously high standards for writing.
also, it’s really cool being able to share my writing with others. i particularly like sharing my writing with my therapist. it’s especially rewarding and meaningful sharing with her, because she knows exactly what true events these fiction pieces are based off of. she’s also surprised at how i present these real life stories so casually to her in person, but when she sees it in writing and on paper, it takes on a whole new dimension.
the reason why my writing is the way it is is because i have to approve of it before i show it to someone else. before i deem it worthy for another set of eyes, i put in work. it’s me vs. me in the writing process. there’s no one else i’m trying to please, no one else i’m worried about understanding, etc. it’s just me. and i’m really fucked up. so my stories are fucked up. so by the time someone reads it, they don’t expect how profound and disturbing it is, simply because they don’t realize that’s just the way i think in my alone time.
so YEAHHHHHHH i’m a fucking writer.