Originally, I never wanted to be a writer. I detested reading, and I wasn’t the least bit interested in learning enough in English class to learn how to write a proper paragraph.

To be honest, I never chose to start writing, I was more forced into it than anything. I had an acquaintance when I was twelve, one I considered my best friend at the time.

Having dealt with much bullying in my life, it wasn’t unusual for others to laugh at me, make fun of me, or make me do something I didn’t want to do. That would be everything that this individual did. She pushed me into reading, even though I hated it. She Manase me write stories, even though I had no interest in the activity.

I thought all of this was normal.

As the years went by and the abuse from this person continued, I set my sights on being an author. A published author. I spent twelve years writing and re-writing a book that I was never satisfied with. Then, one day, this person disappeared. It only came to my attention years later that my mom intervened and forbid her to speak to me or come anywhere near our house.

Thank goodness for wonderful, intuitive mothers.

Years after that, I continued to write, but it was only within the last two months that I discovered the true reason I was writing: to prove that I had worth. To show I was worth something. Then, the second realization came to me. It wasn’t that individual that I was trying to prove this to, I was trying to prove it to myself.

It’s interesting how our minds wrap us in lies and false desires to protect ourselves from the nature of abuse and being bullied.

Now, I love writing. It is a passion of mine. So, I often ask myself: if I had never ran into that person and suffered so many years, would I have never found an actual passion for writing?

I don’t know. All I know is that the past is in the past and that success is the best revenge.

And that’s good enough for me.


Things That Make Me Smile

Things that make me smile during an awful day:

Apple cinnamon scented candles. Chocolate putting. Peach herbal tea (with lots of sugar!). Music video games. Thinking of a good future. Showing love to someone else. Reminding myself that I’m a good person. Mini things. Books. Writing. Daydreaming. Listening to my kitten purring. Flipping through magazines. Michael Jackson music. Pretty colors. Doing my makeup. Looking on online independent shops (not big retailers like Amazon or Walmart). Cooking. Baking. The scent of autumn. Thinking of holding a newborn baby. A baby’s giggle. Chocolates just for me. Singing my favorite songs loud and proud, terribly out of key.

What are some things that make you feel better on a bad day?

Thank You

Sleep is a necessity. It can be really frustrating when you can’t sleep.

In the same manner as my last post, this is more a candid stream of consciousness than a planned topic.

Sleep has seemed to elude me for a couple of days, but I am so grateful for the responses I’ve been getting to this blog. I’m thrilled that you all read my posts, and even take the time to comment and give them a like! So I want to issue a big thank you to all who have read my posts, liked, followed, etc.

You are so special to me! I hope you all get your own success as well. I definitely wish you the best in your ventures as you have helped me in mine.

Again, thank you.

Write On

I’m in love with writing, but sometimes I don’t know what to say. Before I make a post on here, I always say to myself, write your truth. This holds so much meaning to me because, growing up Mute, I never really told the truth. I pretended everything was fine when it wasn’t, and I swore I would never state my feelings. Though that’s a story for another day.

I’m in love with writing, and even though I don’t know what to write, I will write on.

That’s all we can do, isn’t it?

Never Get Tired

To write is to become immortal. These scripted words upon this worn out page.

This is something I recently learned. I’m fascinated with writing and in love with it now more than ever.

I love to write because it helps me to understand myself, and how I’m feeling. Been recently I’ve been feeling a little burnt out. I apologize for that. Perhaps writing so much a day took it out of me! Either way, I feel exhausted. But one thing is for sure: I’ll never get tired of writing.


These words that I write fight for their own narrative, their characters jumping to life in the interim. Characters of fine passions; a blind woman who feels the inherited spirits inside statues, a young teen who runs from her father who has waged war against her world.

I write, my mind and fingertips moving equally as fast. My head a storage of ideas, my heart a barrage of emotions. To be a writer, one must accept the fate of multiple fictional characters attempting to band together to become one real person. The fate of being filled will worlds that aren’t real and ideas that don’t make sense until written down. I too, have found my writer’s crown.

To be a writer is everything I ever could have wised it to be – and more.

I Never Thought I’d Be a Writer

I never thought that writing would be something I would enjoy. I’ve said before that I’ve always been a writer, but I think it’s more that I’ve always been a creator. I used to hate reading, and because I didn’t read, I didn’t write. However, I did make little books with paper and write little short stories, so I suppose that counts.

Why did I hate reading? Because of my school teachers, frankly. They would have assignments to read twenty minutes a day, and I hated it with a passion. I loved storybooks, but chapter books? They gave me headaches.

I actually read a blog post not too long ago directed towards Elementary School teachers, with ten things to not do so that your students would love to read. Every teacher I had did every thing on that list.

At some point, I had a love for reading and stories, but I believe it was pretty badly damaged by my teachers’ cynical ways and quite frankly, their bullying towards me as well. But that story is for another post.

It wasn’t until I was in high school that I really gained a love for reading. Why? Because it wasn’t pressed on me. I could do whatever I wanted regarding reading. I could even choose the books I wanted to read for English assignments; they were never chosen for me. Thus, as my love for reading grew, so did my love for writing.

Now I write everyday. I’m on journal number 22, of all the journals I’ve kept and finished since I was nineteen. I have a bullet journal, and I’m starting an art journal. I want to start a junk journal.

My computer is filled with endless scraps of ideas for stories or musings or just thoughts. I intend to publish most of them. Feel free to laugh at me, but I would love to be one of the most – if not the most – famous writer in the world. There is no limit to how many languages I want to learn. I am currently teaching myself Japanese and Swedish. After that…haven’t decided yet.

That’s the wonder about writing, reading, and languages. You never know when a book will change your life or when learning a language will become a passion. I love to see the wonder in the world, and some of the greatest wonder is what I find in language. It truly rejuvenates me, all the way to my core.

Being a Writer

Why can’t anything be simple anymore? Even the ‘simplest’ things are complicated. It’s frustrating. Seriously.

It seems that everything comes with a price tag nowadays. Gone are the days when you could get something as simple as a glass of water without paying for it, given to you from the kindness of peoples’ hearts. Now, we want to charge for even the basic necessities. In a way, I can understand this. In another way, I think it’s crap.

I’ve been trying to make it as a writer for over ten years. I’ve been working on the same book for just as long. Now that I’m older, I’m seeing more and more of the ins and outs of the industry of writing, along with the cold, hard truth. However, it’s not impossible to make it as a writer – far from it! You just need the right tactic. I, however, am still figuring that out.

I’ve always been a bit on the naïve side, I will hesitantly admit. That is where this little story that follows comes in: I was applying for WordAds here on WordPress.com, and I only realized after I paid for a Premium membership that I need thousands of pageviews a month to be able to even qualify for WordAds. The lesson to take away here: always make sure you know what you’re doing, what you want, and what your plan is before purchasing something. That having been said, I don’t regret a thing. Well, other than asking my mom to help me pay for it, since I’m broke as heck. Yeah, that’s one thing I’ll be upset about for a while. I absolutely hate asking for money. I’m the type of person who wants to do everything for myself by myself.

Despite the fact that I consider myself a decent writer, I have no idea how this will turn out. I’m a very, very small fish in a very, very big ocean, trying to get noticed. That’s scary, and very intimidating. But I think that, in a way, it can be just as influential and motivating as it is terrifying. It will push me forward, out of my comfort zone, and force me to attack what is really at the forefront: my deep rooted fear and avoidance of the social aspects of life in addition to having to get things done and commit to something. Hey, at least I know I have issues!

I think it’s hard for writers to live in such a complicated world because we struggle so much with everyday life. At least, that’s what I believe. I believe that we are a collection of people, all trying to be one person while at the same time trying to separate, find our own ways and our own identities. Add that to being so very in tune with the details of this world and the result can be overwhelming. It’s hard when you’re wired to notice everything. While it makes you a better writer, it can be hard on the mental and emotional physique. I tend to notice just about everything (despite being naïve in nature), and that is the primary reason I don’t watch the news. Of course I’ll see the main story, but then I can’t help but see all of the little details and hear those little words that stick out in my mind. It can get hard when it roots itself in my head, only to swirl around and around driving me crazy at night. Maybe there’s more than one reason why I’m a night owl.

But at the core of all of these thoughts that intrude my head along with noticing all of those details is something that makes everything worth it: being able to capture that human emotion. That human pain, and the ability to perfectly describe with precision how things affect a person. I think that is something that needs to be at the core of every good writer: the ability to describe with excruciating detail how painful those small aspects are, no matter how irrelevant they may seem to the people around you. Being a writer is exhausting, but equally parts rewarding.

What do I love the most about being a writer? Being able to describe things in detail, immortalizing them within words on a page, never to be forgotten. The twinkling city lights from the hospital room when I sat in bed, sick as a child, enamored by all the colors against the dark night sky. All of the different shades of green on a leaf that blows in the wind, detaching itself from its home on the tree and starting its journey. The way a cat yawns and slowly closes its eyes, reassured that it is indeed safe around me after spending five years homeless and mistreated. It’s these things that keep me going as a writer. It’s these things that make noticing all of those painful details worth it in the long run. And it’s these things that can keep you going as a writer, too.

So, what do you love the most about being a writer?