Writing in General

Almost all the writing I do, I do for me. I have notebooks and notebooks of diary entries that are in no chronological order or any other semblance of organization. I have one journal that I started writing as Joe, stopped writing in it altogether, and continued writing as Sarah three years later, long after transition. The missing entries represent the most important time in my life. That isn’t to say I didn’t write some during that time. Those entries are spread out over other notebooks, sheets of loose-leaf, and various computer drives.

I generally write when I feel sad, so most of it is not fit for consumption. No one wants to read my melodramatic sob stories about my darkest days. They might want to read my current take with a bit of distance and humor, but there is very little of that in any diary I’ve written.

To be honest, I have no idea why I feel the need to write when I’m sad. I don’t know if it helps. In many ways, it is much more pleasant to lie down and have a nice sob with my stuffed animals. I can talk to myself without the aid of pen and paper, and I often do. Maybe it is a bit like knitting, something to do while I’m thinking to myself. The act of composing sentences and choosing the right word might suppress my internal dialog. My internal dialog often involves fewer words and more flashes of raw emotions, many of which tell me that I hate myself and few of which are much nicer to me.  Anything that lessens that is a blessing.

Writing is very self-absorbed. I’m rather self-absorbed, so that is probably why I do it. I think I’m important. I think that my thoughts are worthy of your attention. Then again, that is the case when I speak, and I do that quite a lot, rather loudly, on stage, in front of other people, with liberal use of the word “cunt.”

I should write more. I should write articles. I can’t be the worst writer getting paid to put pen to paper.  Perhaps I do have something to offer other people, or maybe I can delude myself to feel good about my writing even if I don’t. A girl can dream.