on writing what I want, finally.

I think one of the issues that I’ve had with writing is that I always wanted to write what people wanted to read. When I look back at my writing, I think to myself, “Would I like this if I was a random person in the bookstore looking for some light reading?”

F**k, no. 

Delete All.

That’s my favorite button. 

But you can’t delete words that have already been spoken. 

I’m getting off topic here.

What I mean is, I am tired of writing for other people. I don’t give a f**k if you don’t like this.

I need to say these things. I need to put my thoughts down, I need to make sense of this all, not for you, for me. 

Writers are selfish. Or maybe I just am.

We all have so much to say but there are only so many pairs of eyes in the world and even less attention spans to entertain.

So here I go, embarking on something that will either stay on this file forever, no one to ever pick it up and read.

Or I can finally go back to school, edit this, make it better and finally get a start on my life and get this published.

I don’t care though, I’m finally writing how I want, about what I want. 

(But I still hope you take something from it because writers are selfish.)