metamorphosis

by kaleidegirl

I have gone through the gamut of emotions and thoughts regarding writing. My writing. Me being a writer. I worried I couldn’t write anymore. I would decide I had nothing worth writing. I feared my severe pain in my hands was the end of my writing. I would be indifferent. I still had moments though. Those moments only writers have.

I need to write because my crazy demands it. Every moment of silence of voice or words, deals a killing blow to my sanity, self-esteem and identity. I don’t want fame. That idea has always annoyed and terrified me. If I write a book that ends up on a bookstore shelf no one will know I wrote it. I’ll never be on par with the likes of Neil Gaiman or John Green, so I would feel no obligation to fans I would not have. For all my vanity, fame is abhorrent to me and seems the most horrible form of self absorption I can imagine. Maybe this opinion is just a self conscious protection. Protecting myself from failure. After all, I am very proud of my great friend when she has a writing accomplishment. Maybe because I see her as the kind of writer the world needs. She has talent and great stories to tell that need to be heard.

Still I need to write. This is my goal.

I would like to hermit and stop dealing with trying so hard in every damn way with everyone and every damn thing. I’m a nice person. I want to be kind, helpful, there to listen, I have heavy things to beat people who do my loved ones wrong, I try to cheer people up, I try to be fun no matter how I feel inside, I try not to complain when I am sick, I try to find ways to do things even if it hurts my hands or my back or my shoulder and I try not to complain, I change to be better….I do all this while fighting a plethora of mental disorders every minute of the day. Literally. (yes I mean that as it is defined)

I can’t take a break though. GISHWHES starts soon. I also have other social things and well, I care about people too much to just go off the radar without warning regardless of whether or not anyone cares if I give any warning or go off the radar. So here it is. After the boat party on the 9th, I’m off. Way off unless you call me. For at least a week.

I am changing and it is a good thing.

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