3:47 pm - Sunday, Jun. 30, 2002
Song:
Writing, being a writer, it�s just something that has stuck in my mind, trailed me over the years. I wrote the cute little stories in elementary school, I wrote depressed pieces and poetry in middle school. Now my words chase the blinking cursor, trying to find their place. There are 26 letters and thousands of words, and sometimes I still cannot explain what I feel.
Everyone out there has a story to tell. Everyone has the love, the loss, the happiness and the pain. I think back on my life and I think I�ve done a lot, I think I�ve gone through a lot. But if I look ahead I realize I still have so much to experience.
Do I want kids? Do I want to marry? What do I want to do with my life? Should I write?
Should I write? I�ve thought about it. I�ve thought about staring that book I�d love all too much to write. I�ve thought about it.
But then you have to consider everyone out there who has a manuscript. There are a lot of talented writers out there. A lot of people who never get published. What in the world would give me the idea that I might have a chance?
I also have to figure that someone has to get published. Maybe not everyone does, but people do. Otherwise there wouldn�t be books. There would be no best sellers list.
You can only write about what you know. I have to ponder even further. What do I know? I know about love, and pain. I know human nature. I know self-destructive tendencies. A habit of fucking it up for yourself.
Then again everyone knows these things so what would make me think I am anything different then everyone else out there who has loved and felt pain, everyone else out there that thinks they have something to write about.
I can only write from the heart and I wonder if that�s going to be good enough.