Everyone else is putting up their writing here, it seems like. So, I figured I'd stop giving advice and start taking some. This is a test run, so to speak. Below is a little (i dunno what to call it) thing(?) I wrote one day and I would like to know what, if anything, it made you think/feel. Any and all genuine answer will be greatly appreciated. Thank you!
To write well is to give yourself away. It’s to take all your fears, all your tightly kept secrets and broadcast them the world over. To do any less is to desecrate the bond between word and paper. So I do no write. With no outlet, emotions fester, piling up higher and higher as the days pass, going beyond comfortable levels and higher still.
Pinpointing the fear is as troublesome as the fear itself, in some ways. It dons many a mask-lethargy, laziness, and lack of inspiration to name a few. It pretends it doesn’t exist, lying in a permanent state of denial. “Who would fear mere words on paper?†it mocks behind its masks. “Not I,†it lies, while the hands it rules type lines in the pretense of creative writing. The words hollow and vague as the mind, which conjured them; as moving as the puppet who helplessly typed them. Dead words from a dead host, as incapable of moving as the dead are incapable of feeling.
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