this is one version of my stories, an interpretation, I wrote so many stories since I imagined how my life could be different, everyday, every time, one of my stories became famous, I was happy, I kept writing and I was so confident, so proud. even with all my imperfections, one day, I felt miserable, fat unhappy, ugly and worthless , I felt that that story didn't make any sense, that I wasn't a good writer in any way so I deleted it, and I delete with it the rest of my confidence, I started experiencing depression , I would write and delete stories every time, cry until I sleep, close my mouth until I suffocate and it was painful and toxic , I couldn't feel free or special, today, while looking at my conversations, I read one of my short text ,and I said to myself, " actually it 's really good, not that bad", by the way why the heck did I deleted all those stories !
now i feel better , a little bit , it took me so much to realise that i might be special , that i don't have to accept what i think don't suit me , that i still can buy clothes and do whatever i want to do , i need to restart and i need to write.
#mé