Anogoya mentioned something in a comment to me:

It’s like eating razors. I envy you, I can’t do that.

Envious of my ability to reach inside and write about the deep emotional pains people can have. That I have.

I’ve always been a writer, from writing dreams or ideas in my journal when I barely knew how to spell, to novel sized text role-playing. I even entered and won NaNoWriMo once, pumping out the last of the 50,000 words on Thanksgiving day. It was a huge accomplishment and I’d never done anything that demanding before with my writing.

After that, however, I quit writing. I lost my drive. I gave up my nano novel, telling myself I'd finish someday. Life was hard then. The desire to write had been ripped away somehow, and I gave up. I tried dabbling here and there but it never felt right anymore.

I made a huge life change, and I turned to social media to comfort me. Tumblr was my home for over a year. I got into the roleplay community there and started writing again. It wasn't very constructive, however. Most people just wanted to act out soft porn, and while that's okay occasionally, I need more creativity than that.

I left tumblr for Facebook, and my writing went from fun to using it as a weapon. Or a shield. I was always either defending my beliefs or defending myself. Facebook killed my writing and turned me into a zombie. Day in and day out, endlessly scrolling down the news feed, not really paying attention, just doing it because, well, that's what Facebook is. It's addicting. And for me it was harmful.

My supposed friends turned on me, and it hurt. But because of that, I was able to delete Facebook and never go back. I had a journal app on my phone and I started taking notes, writing down ideas.

One day, just recently, I googled social media for writers and Medium popped up. At first I was skeptical, looking through some of the posts I felt like I'd never add up. But then I had a great idea. One of my best yet.

I'm just going to write for myself.

Not recognition, not fame, not internet popularity. For me only. I told myself, it doesn't matter what they think. Keep writing.

I was afraid to put out deep, personal details about my life and my mind, but I decided to anyway. I told myself, no one will read it anyway so just write what you want. And I did. And I do.

I had never written about me before. Only my stories, my characters or things I believe in. But never me. It's only been a couple of weeks since I first found Medium, but I feel a huge difference in my life already.

Being able to write my pain out, with every word that leaves my mind and flows out onto my screen, has helped me tremendously. In ways I never expected.

In meditation they tell you to imagine your anxieties and worries as a black smoke. When you breathe deep, you're taking in the clean. When you exhale, you release the negative. You actually visualise the smoke leaving you. It works, and its great.

That's exactly what my writing is like.

Every word is like a darkness being removed. I like to imagine that negativity gets stuck to those words, forever trapped in that poem. That article. That blog. And although I can still feel the pain creep up once in a while, I just go back to those words permanently fixed to the screen and smile, because they're no longer clouding my mind.

They're stuck there, but I'm not.

Not anymore.

Thank you all for following and reading. I never expected to have people care enough to read my bologna, but it feels good. I appreciate it!

I started my writing here as a personal blog type idea, but I can see it evolving quickly. No matter what though, I will always write for me.

❤

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