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Monday 8 March 2010

Once ...


... upon a time, there was this little girl.
She'd keep writing and writing, whatever came up in her head she'd jot down.
She'd never think of how to put anything, her 'style' -as far as it can be called that- just came natural.
Not writing was just unthinkable, it was like someone telling her not to breathe.
She'd choke and suffocate on her own thoughts, because her ever-active brain would never give her a moment of peace. Assignments -like for Creative Writing- were fun for her as long as they left her writing space (in her case, breathing space. Quite literally.) No telling her what exactly it had to be about, and which style she had to use, because that in a way just messed with her own stream of consciousness.
This little girl grew up, and is still writing. She hasn't learned yet how to shut down or direct her trails of thoughts, and maybe she never will. Which is alright, as long as she can vent and not literally think herself crazy. (ie. thinking so much she'll turn really crazy, she already is of opinion is crazy in the non insane sense. Whatever that means.)

Where am I going with this?
No clue. I'm just breathing writing.

xxx
The Gypsy.

2 comments:

  1. I want to be Hemingway except without the divorces, racism and shotgun blast to the face. When I start writing, I'll try to get by on my morbid sense of humor.

    Sorry I was gone all day. I slept *literally* sixteen hours, woke up, and spent an hour doing my midterm in Indexing and Abstracting.

    Also, I didn't notice you'd added according to Johnny thingy until just now. It's not entirely true because, you see, awesome would dramatically understate what I think you are. My gut instinct, speaking right now, uses the term "Radiant."

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  2. Writing is fun.

    I've been writing lots and lots..

    ..stories and notes ,lists and posts.

    Around the age of 6 I was already making
    comic books of sorts which I tied together
    by myself using strings or threads.

    Them stories were about a character called
    John who fell into a container by accident
    and his hair became scarlet red.

    He experienced some very strange alien
    environments and used some special powers
    and skills that he had learned near his home.

    His home was in a quite unique location.

    I'll share more of the story with ya later~

    ReplyDelete