Writing Is Magical
I guess writing was the only thing that helped me feel free. I had nobody to talk to about what I was feeling or going through, so when I discovered writing, it was like magic. I could express my emotions without having to tell someone or feel ashamed or embarrassed of certain things or feel like I was being criticized or looked down on for opening up. I couldn’t really communicate with my mom being that she was hundreds of miles away and a phone call every now and then never made me feel like I could really talk to her. At the same time, I don’t think I trusted her as much, after finding out about the whole “Step Dad” situation. Living with the grand folks wasn’t easy either. I wasn’t really close to my grandma and like I said before, she was pretty strict and very religious. There were things you just couldn’t talk about and a lot of things that were frowned upon. My Bio-sis lived a few houses down with the aunt and uncle and we were so not close. I always felt like she hated me or resented me in some way. I’m not sure why, but, I always had that feeling. As time went by, the bio-bro and I became close, probably because we lived in the same room for so long that we didn’t really have a choice. Haha. Anyways, writing was my escape. I could be anywhere as long as I had a pen and paper. To this day, there is so much bottled up in this little memory bag of mine that I know will never hit paper. Some things just cannot be expressed in any form. Those are the ones that haunt me the most. Those are the ones that keep me locked inside my own mind.