Oh. You want the truth? It’s a bit messy.
It’s the joke your friends make that you shyly laugh off. It’s the smiles and tears that come when someone finally sees the end. It’s the hours upon hours of sitting in one place, hoping the mixture of words turn out better than where it started, while knowing you’ll be sitting back here again soon.
It’s happiness. It’s terrifying. It’s indifferent.
It’s people watching everywhere you go to see if there’s some good dialogue to use. It’s the people who glare when they notice you write notes in your phone for a story idea. It’s smiling at people, hoping they don’t ask the same questions but hoping they do at the same time.
It’s chocolate milk. It’s raw eel. It’s different languages to understand.
It’s the crying and dehumanizing oneself because the world is against being imperfect. It’s fangirling out when meeting another person with similar writing interests. It’s the freaking out moment inside when someone – other than someone in your career – takes you seriously. It’s all the dreams and hopes inside that come out of you on a Word document or a piece of paper.
It’s stories from our writings. It’s a rollercoaster of ideas and emotions. It’s life.