I was going to work on some short stories tonight, this creepy woman across the street won’t stop watching me work threw my apartment window and its really messing with me. so instead I’ll just dash of this piece talking about writing short stories and how it’s currently helping improve my understanding of myself and my mental health.
It lets me examine situation in life I can’t understand as they happen. I get in a bit of trouble every now and then because i don’t understand so called social norms, I definitely understand right from wrong, but fail to see any kind of logic in social norms. so i can go back and figure it out later using characters in fictional settings where no one gets hurt.
I get to let go of harsh experiences kind of. Anything that helps with this I’ll take, a big part of me wishes writing erased the memory once it’s written but it doesn’t work like that. It does let me get it out of what ever bottle i shoved in it way back when ever though and the emotional load feels lighter after.
Sense of productivity, Accomplishment what ever you want to call that feeling when you’ve done something you feel is productive. it’s a good feeling everyone should have it and try to get it on the daily. You get that weather you publish it or not.
I’m no doctor but i am extremely over qualified as a patient and i have a fairly good feeling for what works for me at the very least. My only real advice is try it and see if it lightens your load. Oh and if like me you rip off most of your characters directly from the people you know I’d be careful about what you actually choose to publish. Not everyone is as broke as a guy on disability so liable suits might actually matter to you,lol.
Now if only this creepy woman would stop watching me work, yes i realize who i am i know I’m sitting in front of a computer typing shit and I’ve heard all the nice things women who’ve spent time with me have to say many times who the hell do you think the first one to hear that news was. it just must be so hot watching a mildly over weight man type on a 6 year old laptop. Well I’m off to hide in the bathroom and write more shit that will never see the light of day.