There was a poem I posted yesterday in the workshop and I decided to let my therapist GF read it. She thought it was pretty dark. When I told her what sparked the poem she looked at me like I needed to be on the couch in the office immediately. The poem itself is going to be one of a five part work based on the stages of grief. I tried to explain that what we authors write may be founded on real feelings, but the writing is greatly expounded and often an exaggeration. I don't live my life feeling as strong as my words, but can't deny that the thought hadn't crossed my mind. For instance, if I were to write an angry poem or story, that does not make me an angry person; however, I could not deny never having experienced that emotion. I had the same problem when I let a loved one read my MS about quite a misanthropic person. I was questioned if that person was me. Were parts of him me? Sure, but not to the level he is illustrated. I have learned not to let people who truly know me read what I write because my words become me, not the other way around.