Member-only story
Living With a Writer
I don’t know how it feels to live with a writer, especially someone who writes bits and pieces of their life story on almost a daily basis.
I’ve read work by people I know personally only a couple of times and nothing has felt unusual for me. I’ve read secrets that people don’t want to share with others and all I’ve felt is that there’s no reason to be anything but nice as I always try to be. After knowing some ugly parts of people I’ve crossed paths with, I’ve simply carried on having positive relations until, for some reason or other, communication may stop (in life, certainly, there are many circumstances that lead to this outcome and it’s hard but, also, alright).
Because I pour out my daily thoughts and feeling on the web regularly, I know that I’ve said quite a lot (more than a lot of people but, also, definitely not more than a lot of people). What I do is probably like reading another’s very private diary and I understand that it’s uncomfortable to associate what’s stored in a book to a person you see every day in your house (not even in your home but in the home next door, or this could be a colleague you work with) but I think deep in our subconscious, we understand that our most unattractive parts of ourselves are no different from what we read of others.
Why have I been writing out my thoughts the way I do?
