You are my escape

From cheesy soap operas to lively tunes, when I've had a bad day they're just what I need to get me back on track and feeling less low. 

I hoped to have another long blissful sleep again tonight but the stomach cramps just won't let up at all so I think I'm gonna continue my Beauty And The Beast marathon until the pain subsides.

Life is so burdensome that there are times when I wish I could have this giant sleep and be unaware and unconscious for a few days just to get my bearings back.

Also to have a break from the pains, discomfort, constant stress and insomnia. I hate feeling tired all the time and close to emotionally breaking.  

I wish I was stronger, roboticish. I wouldn't want to be totally numb, been there - done that and that was ten times worse somehow.

I catch up on my soaps and all the unrealistic dramas and wonder if I'll ever achieve that level of greatness. How can I possibly write about love, when I doubt I'll ever experience it. 

Will my readers be fooled into thinking I'm writing about past experiences or will they see through the charade and think..  "She is blatantly unqualified to write..."

I am both physically and emotionally broken. Physically, well that's beyond repair but emotionally, I just keep trying to fight the feelings of despair and hopelessness. 

To be lost in some soap opera world is a breath of fresh air. Those minutes where I'm not haunted and my body is totally relaxed, why can't I maintain that same control and composure when the pain washes over me spreading everywhere? 

Why dammit?

Who am I trying to kid? I am not nearly as tough as I make out I am. I'm weak and despondent and tonight. . I just feel lost..

I'm a fraud!

I call myself a writer and have various stories and plots running through my mind at any given moment. 

I can talk to someone and make up a crazy scenario with no effort at all and even make it elaborate and filled with fun details but when it comes to my own precious stories, I draw a blank.

Those doubts creep in through the smallest crack and fester inside my head. 

I load up the book page and stare it, hoping that some ideas will burst through and I can move past this massive hurdle but it's just not happening of late.

I want desperately to finish book number one and achieve that goal of writing and completing my first book. 

I reread what I've written with a love/hate conviction, some of it I really love and it all makes sense to me and other bits I feel critical of and wonder who on this earth would find it appealing to read.

Writing is my passion though. I loved it from my childhood, these wonderfully intriguing stories that floated around my head that I could create alternative paths to. 

Writing long letters to my penpals and finally creating stories of my own.

Perhaps I am overthinking and being too negative. I don't really feel bad about my writing but I am not 100% convinced it's fantastic either. It's just fair, it's readable.