My story

It starts in a budding household

Not really broken

But still in need of repair

My parents

They were young

They started something, something complex

Neither were ready

Things didn’t abruptly fall apart

There was no final fight

No explosion of emotion

It wasn’t a movie

They couldn’t take it anymore

The little things, building up

Dad said he wanted to leave

She said okay

Call me Papa, he said

Papa

Like my dad, but not

It was so confusing

I didn’t understand

He did his best

Did what he knew

He wasn’t cruel or mean, he just...

Did what he had been taught

I needed an escape

Needed to move my mind from my body

Gaming held, but only for a while

Everything was too real

I discovered reading

I read everything

But books eventually ran out

I needed more

So I wrote

Only a little at first

Creativity trickled out of my brain

A budding stream of ideas

I didn’t stop

Poetry

Short fiction

Novels

Plays

It wasn’t an escape

It was a new world

Now I find myself here

Surrounded by a new everything

Still writing, still creating

I wrote to get away

To put my brain somewhere else

To express myself away from others

Now,

I write because it’s a part of me

I write to share my ideas with others

Mostly though,

I just love writing