U is for Understanding Me
The following is actually something I wrote three years ago, but for the most part it’s still relevant today. It is something that very few people seem to understand about me:
I always ironically said that I love writing so much that I can’t put it into words, but finally, after years, I found the right words.
Is it weird that I am secretly really happy that there’s no one I know in my new study hall? I mean, I love talking to my friends and being around them, but I just as equally love being by myself in my own little world. I love being somewhere quiet and just being able to sit with a notebook and write whatever I want. Whether it’s part of a novel, or a blog post I may never publish, or even a journal entry just for myself, I love it. If it’s not completely quiet (or sometimes even if it is), I just pop in my ear buds and let my carefully chosen music drown out everything outside and enclose me in the world my mind created completely as my own. MY music, MY emotions, MY memories, MY ideas, all here for me to dwell in and enjoy.
These are the ideas, stories, and daydreams that scatter around my brain like confetti flying around with no rhyme or reason at all. Many times, the only way for me to express them in a coherent way is to write them down in an exposition.
I know writing fanfiction is kind of cheating because they are not actually my own original characters, but the ideas are all my own. My characters are my own unique interpretation of existing characters, and their experiences and the way they are portrayed in my writing are all my own.
My answer to those typical stranded-on-an-island questions: Just give me a pen and paper and I could occupy myself forever.
I love writing. I need writing.