So I have realized that quite frequently when I write, though I often draw upon my own experiences, I make up a lot of stuff and ignore a lot of things. I have spent most of my life using my imagination as an escape, and would write to escape, and because it's fun, an amazing high, etc., etc., etc.


Sometimes I write the fantasies I made to take myself away from my reality.

But what would come out if I wrote more of the truth than fantasy?

Am I ready to deal with this yet?

I really don't know.

But thinking about some of these things today, and writing about them, has been a lot less painful than it has been in the past. And maybe that's the start of something.