New Journal

I remember writing a lot while I was in high school. At first it use to be about my daily life. But then somewhere along the lines it became about the drama in my life...and then it was the drama in my life. I gave up on it because it seemed that whenever I would write on it everything I had written about would show up the next day. So in a sense I was creating the stress in my life. This will be different. This time I won't share it with anyone. At least...not yet.

Now I seem to be having a hard time thinking about what I want to write. What do I want to put here? I have many thoughts that I want to reflect on but I can't seem to think of a single one. Well maybe that's one that I haven't really thought about.

I like to write. I remember when I was a kid, playing by myself in the tiny two bedroom apartment in Richland. More writing material right there. But anyway, I would find books lying around and always want to know what they said. What the letters were trying to say. I recognized some of them from when my mom would write. She always wrote in cursive but I definitely recognized a vowel or two. So I imitated her...but unknowingly defacing the books in the process.

I remember the day I learned to spell my name in Head Start; a pre-school that I use to attend. I would write it all the time. I didn't comprehend exactly what the mechanics were, but I knew that M-I-L-E-S sounded like my name. Then I began to learn to read and write in elementary school. We use to write stories all the time. My classmate's were simple stories talking about things they did with friends or places they had gone, or even their favorite ice-cream. Not me. I remember writing a piece about a cat that would always follow you. No matter where you were, when you turned around it would be watching you. Waiting. I remember trying to write out the spelling of a spell. Abracadabra, alakazam! I was more creative.

But now...it's gone. That wanting to write...creatively. I am so afraid of what others might think. I can understand a critique but I don't want to write if no one wants to read it. Because in a sense, when I write, it's not just words on a page. For me, it's a part of my soul that I want to share with others. I'm afraid to show a part of me and have no one like it. I fear that I may seem cliche or borrowing ideas from elsewhere. I don't want to be anything but original.

I think that's why I am never happy with the stories I am writing. I want it to be original. But how can I call myself that when I am inspired through Tolkien's work? From Dungeons and Dragons? From various other media? What part of my soul is original? Maybe that's why I don't like television anymore. Why I don't read as often? How can I be original if something outside my mind inspires me?