We Could Write a Bad Romance

I wish that I could be taken away by a flow of seeming harmless words down a long and winding river with sharp bends, narrow streams and rocky beds. I used to be able to take myself away like that but now I can't. I am so easily distracted when I try to write. I look back at those stories, the ones that I had so much fun writing; crying and laughing as I was writing them. I loved how they brought me with them. But I look back and all I see is contradictions, poor flow and over all extremely awful quality. Was I really a good writer? For my age, maybe. But I'm getting older now. I see things differently than I use to. All my childish innocence and ignorance is gone; I'm finding it hard to see the good in some people. Those words sound as ominous but they are so undeniably true. I'm narcissistic now and I hate it.

Too be perfectly honest, I know that:

• I write fantasy because I'm not content with reality
• I write romance because I'm lonely
• I write from an older point of view because I can't wait to grow up
• I know that I write because I can't speak.