And so it begins.

I have always been horrible at keeping a journal. For many reasons. One of which being my chagrin whenever I would read it back. But recently I've gained a somewhat higher regard for my own work and a distinct appreciation for being able to review ones own work. Here, I realise I will also be subject to other people possibly having something to say about my innermost thoughts, should I choose to divulge them here. This is both terrifying and a little exciting to me.

I rarely share my thoughts and opinions with anyone apart from my wonderful boyfriend and trusted fellow weirdo. Mostly because I'm not very fond of confrontation, but also because I feel it's more conducive to listen and learn. Letting people who are more concerned about what they are going to say next rather than have a dialogue, get their opinions and ranting out of their system. It's amazing what you can learn from people just by listening. Funnily enough people will tell you anything they can think of if they feel the conversation becomes too quiet. So, I will try for once to share me. The real me, not the facade of the person you can use as your personal dumpster for your problems and issues. But the fairly fragile weird creature that would rather poke her own eardrums out than listen to another tragic story about how no one understands someone for whatever reason. It's my experience that people who say no one understands them, don't really want to be understood and enjoy the "mystery" they brand themselves with by saying this. I'm not sure I'm expressing myself adequately with this. But hopefully whoever reads this will understand what I mean, not what I write.

I will make an attempt to write here once daily. But I make no guarantees of this. I have been known to be somewhat flighty in regards to keeping a blog or journal or... Anything of the kind. The only thing I remain consistent in is my work. Well, I suppose I should call it my book. I have been working on the same project now for about a year. I struggled for a long time to connect the dots, so to speak, of my story. Then one day it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Of course! It made sense now. The story was finally taking shape, gaining structure. Then I set about trying to write it down. I have been writing my stories and small random texts for as long as I can remember. I always loved immersing myself into these stories and people I made up. But I never identified myself as a writer. It was a fantasy, lurking just at the edge of my mind. It didn't even occur to me that I was even remotely good enough to merit any kind of attention. However, due to my life reaching a low point, which I was not at all certain I could get past I started this story. It was the story of me. I couldn't believe it. After writing that first little snippet, I somehow managed to spiral even lower. I stopped writing all together, it was too painful. But then I looked at it again, seeing past the pain and reading it from an objective point of view... It wasn't bad writing. And so I ventured into path of telling more of my story. Then I got stuck. The story remained stagnant for almost a year until before mentioned lightning bolt hit me. I suppose I could say that this book has been in the works for a very long time. But I choose to say it's been a year, simply because it's only the last year that I've been actively working in the mindset of making it into an actual book.

I have to admit I'm scared to share my ideas and texts here. For fear that someone might steal them. I realise this might sound arrogant and/or paranoid, but it's still a very real fear. But I'll do my best to work past this fear and hopefully be able to get some good feedback from the people here.

Until next time. Eaveah.