I sit here and try to think of something to write. What, some fantasy life of a boy going through shit but finding friends, new families, and maybe not his soulmate but his first love? A life I wish I had? Maybe, a part of me craves for creating a world that isn't mine an escape to experience things I have not or will never go through. But I've done so many different paragraphs of different stories, making all these lives, characters, places... But none of It matters, I'm not making this for me I'm making this for someone else to read and try to enjoy a brief escape from reality. In all honesty though I think also, selfishly, I do this because I wanted to become a part of something and attempt to be a good writer. After years of not finishing anything because there was no response, I sit here and think fuck it. As much I would love for someone to read these shitty stories I'm going to start writing them for me. Because at the end of the day that's all I have. Me.