I haven’t stopped thinking about it though. I can’t ever stop thinking about writing, it’s ingrained in my blood, it’s as crucial as homeostasis, my brain thinks in chapters.
“It was a gloomy Tuesday morning when Harriet Bentley rolled out of bed with the distinct purpose of greeting the world with a non-committal shrug. Her bushy hair showing more personality than her entire demeanor.”
I wake up every morning to a narrative of my life, a short paragraph to some strange life story.
I haven’t stopped writing because I want to. I link every profound moment to a hastily constructed brain poem, I describe people with words like “cherry-blossom” and “sun-kissed”. I’ve stopped writing so I can figure out how to differently.
I’ve stopped pretending to be damaged, which I think is a great success in my journey of personal development. I’ve come to realise that everyone’s damaged, it’s a great fact of the human race, everyone has something to hold over their own heads. The trend nowadays is for people to make being damaged their identifier.
My identifier is tall and loveably quirky. It’s always been like that; tall, quirky, with a vicious streak and a tomboyish attitude. You add “damaged” to it and vicious becomes insecure instead of sharp and quirky becomes weird instead of adorable.Everyday for the past few weeks I’ve thought about things to say to you: my audience of readers who only know my by the words I write. You don’t know my favourite colour or that I used to play the violin before I moved (well now you do); you’re a group of people, some who may have been with me from the very beginning, who’ve seen me grow in how I express myself. Or maybe you’re just visiting, clicked the “humor” tag and ended up here. Either way, I want you to look at my blog and what I write and think anything but “damaged”.
I know that being surrounded by people who have a complex about everything bad that’s ever happened to them, and all the people who have hurt them can be exhausting.
I never want to be exhausting. I want to be exhilarating.