A little preface: This is an insomnia and prompt driven blurb… The prompt suggested that I write about how life would be easier with nobody to share it with. This is what I came up with–
I push people away because it’s easier. If you let someone in even a little bit, it gets complicated. You either have to let them have access to everything in your life, or you have to be constantly monitoring where and when to put your guard up or take it down. If you put it up or take it down at the wrong time, or in the wrong place, you start to scare the other person away. I think that hurts a lot more than pushing then away in the first place. At least in that case it’s self inflicted and doesn’t involve anyone you may have opened yourself up to hurting you against your will.
Then again, the worst pains are the ones we inflict upon ourselves.
Reading is such a strange concept if you really think about it. Every time you open a book you are inviting yourself into the authors mind. Within that text are some of the author’s deepest thoughts and emotions. Think about how much courage and confidence it takes for that author to share that much of her soul. Being an author means putting yourself out into the world, with no shield, for everyone to see. It means opening yourself to the cruel, judgmental souls of society. It means controlling your own words just to publish them and have no control over what others do with them. It means putting yourself on the edge of a cliff and allowing anyone and everyone to push you over the edge.
So why do I want to be a writer so badly? Maybe it’s the pure exhilaration or being about to fall over the edge of that cliff. Maybe going through the world with enough confidence to go without a shield is the best kind of shield. Maybe I think that by forcing myself to do something courageous I will become courageous. Maybe I’m a different kind of person. Maybe I’m just crazy. That’s okay though. You know why? Because all the best people are.