The Emo Journal

Yesterday I was impossibly anti-social.  I sat as far from people as I could and I wrote.  that’s pretty much all I did.  It wasn’t my standard writing.  I’ve started to write a story.  Krystal had mentioned that I should write my reality into being, so here goes.  I don’t know where it’s going, but it’s going.  I’m almost afraid of where it’s going to end up.  I don’t have a pre-determined plot.  I don’t have a set idea of where I want it to go.  I don’t have a list of characters.  I don’t have much of anything other than what I consider a shabby start.  This is just kind of happening.  It’s something out of a strange creative space.  It’s just becoming.

I think this is what I needed.  I needed something where I could just pour out everything I am.  I needed something I could hide behind, and this is a good start.  I think I really just need to find a way to keep up with it.

It all started because I was sitting out in front of my house on the cold cement walk.  I was smoking a clove (yeah, I know, I’m a bad girl), thinking about the last time I really smoked with any kind of regularity.  I was spending a lot of time with Dmitri.  I was also living in Salem.  That was when I’d have to get up at the crack of dawn just to get on the train every morning and go to work.  I remember sitting on the back porch, smoking with him at the Christmas party we had, feeling like I needed to run away, yet I was shivering something fierce because of the cold.  It was pretty cold on that walk that night, which was what reminded me, and pretty lonely.  Instead of being lonely, I thought of Dmitri.  I thought about the way he’d changed so much in the time I knew him.  It was kind of strange to be thinking of that moment all this time later.

Well, I decided I needed to do something about this.  I needed to go inside and find something to write on.  I found an empty black composition book and snagged that off the shelf with one of my purple pens.  I brought it back outside and sat down to write.  Unlike most of my writing that started off slow and needed a lot of encouragement, this just flowed.  I guess it’s true that you really should write about what you know.  That’s what I’m doing.

Krystal thinks this will somehow be a catalyst to the changes I need in my life.  I’m not so sure about that.  All it’s managed to do thus far is make me easily overwhelmed and anti-social.  I’ve spent a lot more time hiding so that I can write.  It’s almost consuming.  It’s strangely as much of a need as breathing.  Still, people don’t seem to want to leave me alone to do it.  I’s like they’re preventing me from running away and hiding.  It’s not that they don’t want me to finish it.  I think they just don’t want me to become so withdrawn and reclusive that they never see me anymore.  I don’t think that will happen, but I need to get the part I’ve been inspired to write out of my head so I can move on.

Thus far it’s kind of taking the bend of a modern fantasy in my mind.  I’ve got a bit of an idea of where things are going over the next few steps, but I don’t know where it will end up.  I’ve got some ideas, but I’m not entirely sure which one will take.  It’s almost like the story is more writing itself.  It’s almost scary.  I’ve never been a conduit for something like this before.

So because it’s made me all anti-social, Morgan has dubbed it my emo journal.  He thinks I’m all emo because I’ve avoided attention and instead preferred to sit outside, smoke, and write.  I don’t think he understands the inspiration.  I don’t think he gets that everything else, eating, drinking, sleeping, all seems unnecessary in comparison to writing this.  I don’t think he quite gets that this isn’t me being emo, this sullen, sulky, miserable thing I’m going through.  I’m upset and hurting for no logical reason in comparison to what’s going on in my life.  It’s gotten me so I’m not much for eating, cleaning, functioning.  This isn’t really who I am, not normally, but it’s strangely who I am in this moment.  It’s kind of scary.

Anyhow, for any of you who might be inspired to read what I’ve written, I’ll be putting The Emo Journal up online as I write it.  I’m not sure how I feel about putting my work up where just anyone can read it, but I really need the feedback.  Perhaps if I do decide to get it published, I’ll stop writing it online and tell you that you’ll all just have to buy the book to see how the story ends, but I don’t think that will be the case.  I doubt I’ll get published.  I can’t imagine being a real writer and having to ask friends and family to read the story and tell me what they think.

If you’re interested, go read The Emo Journal…

Anyhow, I’m craving caffiene and a cigarette…only one of which I’m going to get…  Don’t worry, it’s the less healthy one that I’m going to deny myself.  I don’t need to be a smoker.  I should also get food and check on the baby boykin.  Then it’s back to the drawing table…or more accurately, the Emo Journal.

~*~Raven Night~*~