I am not sure why I decided to begin this little project. Did I think it would help me to organise the writhing mess of my mind, to categorise my thoughts and file them into neat little boxes ready to be shipped out and away? Did I think this would make interesting reading material, or that this would be something a future me could reflect on? Do I even think I can keep this project going for more than the few minutes it took me to come up with this idea?
Did I think this could become a heart-wrenching, lyrical yet tragic memoir, or perhaps an object of inspiration, a story of hope and happy endings, of patient endurance through pain and suffering? Of course not. I am not shallow enough to believe that that is the case, my words are not lyrical and no aspect of this will be beautiful. That is something I know for sure.
So why did I decide to put my ramblings down on virtual paper? Perhaps for no reason other than "why not?". Let's go with that instead.
YOU ARE READING
learning to feel
NonfiksiThis is not a happy story, or in fact is it a story at all. This is my diary, an amalgamation of my thoughts, of my dreams and my demons, of my delusions and disorders, of my struggles and successes. This is what happens when I try to confront what...
