I noticed that afternoon naps are healthy for your skin. I do it now and then – usually when reading a boring book. Though, the moment I close my eyes, I often risk having a nightmare. Strange things happen when I nap during the day. My subconscious is most active and does terrible things when I’m not looking. I don’t even want to go into details here, but winter has put me into this empty glass I’m about to break from the inside. If it doesn’t work, I shall use my head and elbows until blood flows.
I’ve come to this point where I don’t care what they think of me anymore. Having settled in finally, after two months, means I have had my time to assess everyone, and I feel no threat. And if I do, what the heck, what do I care.? What’s the worst that can happen? People hating me for the wrong reasons? Probably, but it won’t matter. All I’m interested in is B.
I’m just not sure if I can have him or if he wants me. It’s always the same painful story. Not once does it ever work. Every time I build an automaton that looks like me, I end up embarrassing myself. I shall just be myself. See how that works.
I’m excited about handing out my short story. I noticed that all the boys tend to write from a boy’s perspective, and the girls tend to write from the “I” perspective – the female “I,” of course. They are all so autobiographical – in a very conspicuous way. I would never present a piece of life writing in class and let people judge it as a “piece of writing.” There’s so much to criticize, which makes the writer uncomfortable.
Life Writing is blog material for me – nothing to share within the class. If I was to present a piece of Life Writing, I think there will be more stories about my paediatrician inserting suppositories into my anus and how SHE, that damn bitch of a whore, first told my dad that I might have mental health issues. I’m glad my tutor didn’t point out my misogynistic views when I read my short piece; I don’t think that would have been a pleasant discussion. If you want more life stories about suppositories and masturbation, wait another 10 years or longer. I will tell you everything as long as I haven’t mentioned anything in my previous blog posts. I’m sure I have, though.
Well, coming back to my story: I spent four days and five nights writing it and an entire month to redraft and rewrite it. There are three drafts, and I’m sure after the workshop, I’ll have to get ready to redraft it for the fourth time. It’s going to be a pain in the arse. It’s strange how I came up with that story in the first place.
Originally I wanted to write a story about a psychopath titled “The observer.” Graham was supposed to be a passive guy watching bad things happen around him (like Clay), and towards the end, he’ll lose it and start a massacre! Only the moment Shannon entered his life, I realized that he was no such person. So Shannon kind of ruined the idea of my story; I didn’t want t kill her off, either, because I realized Graham liked her.
I don’t talk funny. I talk about reality, my way.