Walking Blindfolded

There's a rope tightened around my waist. It's pulling me somewhere, but I don't know where.

I'm blindfolded.

I'm hearing those voices, those voices that tell me to quit.

The Christians telling me that writing my dark stories is unhealthy.

Shitting on the fact that my life wasn't Disneyland. What do they want me to do? Pretend? Dissociate from reality, never accepting my life as it was?

Fools.

The jealous men on Okcupid telling me that writing about Josh is helping me stay stuck on him.

Bitch please. It helps me be less ashamed.

That this had been a part of my experience.

I want to write about a serial killer who kills 10 people including his abusive father. I want to write about it because I could write it easily without research.

Fuck the voices that tell me to focus on something brighter. I have a mind similar to the Joker. Don't tell me what to do.

I want to write about the fact that I never belonged with Christians or atheists. The weird agnostic that didn't have a home.

I want to write about the fact that I was forgotten about. The orphan.

And yes, I want to write about Darryl & Diana even if it mirrors the Josh story and makes it more positive.

I want to dare to write about the uncomfortable.

Dare to not play it safe.