This is going to be a disaster.
I don't have a story, really, just random notes from my head plastered together to make something crap.
And I want to be famous. I want it so bad. To make a difference. And I can't do that without someone knowing who I am. I don't, I suppose, even want to really HELP anyone so to speak. I just want someone to know that I exist. And that I matter to someone on this tiny globe of inferiority. Someone who chooses to let me matter not has to by birth right.
And so I write crap and I think it's wonderful and then a day later I look back and it's hideous. The words jumble together; the characters are flat, the plot twists are straight lines and the intelligent social commentary is actually boring monologue.
Was I drunk? I wonder, but I still show it to Lena who politely nods and says it's great but completely misses the moral point.
Lena, that is skinny pretty Lena who is very photogenic and very tall and very blonde. She will be a success story. She is confident and non-imposing. And is gifted and talented, creative and athletic. Everything I am not.
She doesn't write stories but she comes up with them and they all involve a girl just like her falling in love with a bad boy and changing him for the better. All the same drab. Very boring. But she doesn't need to be creative in that respect. She's already got enough talent to make her rich.
I write because I need to get it. I need to matter in the scheme of things and with no extra curricular activities and no other talent, this is going to be how it is.
I will tell you now that this is going to be a disaster. And you probably shouldn't read.
But do so anyway, if you really give a crap.