A Bleacher Boy's Perspective (BoyxBoy)

Author's Note (if you're curious)

Hello everyone. Just typing this is filling me with anxiety right now. I don't have an explanation for my absences here that I think will satisfy you. It certainly doesn't satisfy me. I'm not by any stretch happy with this chapter. It isn't what I want. I've been agonizing over it for...gosh almost a month. I've been staring at it for a month. Unable to write more than a couple sentences at a time. I'm stuck. Not by ideas. By head seems to be rushing with images, emotions and words that I want to convey in this story. It is so hard. Harder than I think it should be for me to express myself through writing. I try writing a poem and I can't. I just hate every word of it. Writing this has been the same struggle. When you write I've been told we place parts of ourselves in it too. Sometimes it is on purpose and other times it is on accident. When I write now I can't hear myself. I'm not sure if that makes sense but all I'm trying to say is that I've lost sight of why I write. If I were to ask myself right now, "Vanessa, why do you write stories?" I wouldn't be able to answer. I'd probably just stare at you blankly.

When I first starting writing on wattpad it was mostly just to try out writing a story but it manifested into something else. I had messages and lessons that I wanted the world to know and for me to be able to look back on and remember. I found inspiration in my friendships and TV shows. I didn't just want to write about two people getting together. I wanted my writing to mean something. For it to resonate with someone. To make people laugh and cry simultaneously. I wanted to write something that wasn't a cliche. I wanted to make characters that were overwhelmingly sweet or snarky. I wanted a lot of things. When I write now...I know I still want those things to become true but I'm missing the purpose I used to have. Why? Why is this something I want to do? I don't know.

I'm starting to think I can't just wait around for things to happen anymore. I can't just sit idly by for inspiration to strike. I need to just write. Even if it is painful. Even if I'm unhappy with it. I need to accept its imperfections. It is the only way I'm going to be able to claw my way out of this spiraling hole. It is the only thing I haven't tried. So this next chapter...that is why it is. My attempt to break the chain. If it sucks now, the hope is that it will improve. I can come back and edit (and boy I will).

End of my life crisis rant.

I love you. Every last one of you. Whether you were here when the most reads I had where one-hundred or if you've just finished binge reading the few chapters I do have. I am grateful for you. You guys leave beautiful comments. I just finished reading a lot of them as a way of reminding myself that while writing for you wasn't the intention (I was writing for myself) it became the reason I stayed. So thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you and thank you a hundred times more than that. You've been patient. You've been concerned. You've been loyal. And I couldn't possibly ignore that. This next chapter is dedicated to you all and is a promise for more.