Or the reason why I felt the impulse of starting an account here and try not to explode in the process
More than a shy person I’m someone who’s not into telling anyone everything about herself, and more than moody I try to be smart and not let anyone in easy enough for them to think they know me (this may also sound a little creepy…). When it comes to the things I enjoy so much writing about (what it comes from here can be easily described as a shortcut to my brain aka the most dangerous place EVER) it gets worse, it turns into a castle with an unbreakable wall full of the bravest soldiers ready to fight till the end, and that’s the wall I’ve been breaking down lately.
I don’t know if there are such things as writer souls or a writing intelligence but the truth is that I find enough comfort in writing to do it as often as I do, and I don’t know exactly how I got to this point but I promised myself I would write at least once a week about anything not too revealing and show it to the outside world, for better or worse (yes, the subtitle was click bait, sorry folks).
The main issue is finding the reason why, the acceptable topic that’s both going to keep things interesting and make me feel safe, out of danger and like I’m being me in the process because that’s what writing is about, it’s like trying to lie but leaving behind an universe of clues to follow and guess: Who’s the writer? What’s this person’s world like? Is she ok or… ?
All this reflections lead me to the next conclusion: Are those things worth hiding? What am I protecting with all the secrets and mystery? If I’m being translucent while trying not too, I could as well be it on purpose: Explore the deepest corners of my brain and let it all out, put it here, translate it to words someone can read and have fun in the process, which is exactly what I’m doing now, I’m taking the fastest train out of my beloved comfort zone and I mean it’s not like everyone is going to read it, the world’s general laziness becomes a shield too, right?
In case you’re still here after almost 400 words that can or cannot be relatable at all, here are 3 things to start:
- Big crowds scare me, make me feel trapped and breathe poorly (it could be low-key enochlophobia mixed up with agoraphobia).
- I have the creepiest memory and would probably remember more things of you than what you would think.
- I may have cried when Moana’s grandma died… twice.