Perfectly Honest Secrets and Lies

Here is the thing, I am a bit of a liar. Not compulsive and not often but kind of constantly. And here’s why, I lie to myself. Now I know how this will sound. I know exactly how I will sound. Like some girl I’d hate. But here’s the thing, I always force myself to expect the worst so that I’ll never be disappointed so if I catch a little voice in my head going “You know what? I think everything is going to be amazing! I can’t wait!” it gets brutally murdered. Now this may seem a tad extreme, but to me it’s just protection. Some people protect themselves with pepper spray, a rape alarm and a sharp object, some with a good set of friends who support and believe in them, some with avoiding difficult situations and me? I protect myself with pessimism.

Now, I know that this isn’t exactly unique but the thing is- I do it consciously. Like if we take a test at school I convince myself I’ve done terribly and I do well. This may be more down to the fact that I’m smart (and modest too as you can see) but it’s become a superstitious ritual that has coincided with good marks for so long, that I just force myself to feel like it all the time.

But I lie to myself in  a different way as well. In complete and utter honesty- I want to be a writer. I like writing stories and have done it ever since I was small, and I love reading too. But I never finish my stories. Well, I finish the short ones that are only two pages or so, but the long ones- the ones that I aspire to be as long as a novel, never get finished. I have about 50 on my laptop. And for most of them I can see exactly where they’re going, I’ve sorted out the plot in my head but… I just can’t seem to carry on writing! There’s always another idea or something (like goodreads which I kind of wish I’d never found) that’s distracting me. And I despair of it! How can I be a writer when I can’t finish writing! And whenever you hear authors talk you always hear of how they wrote since they were little girls and boys and wrote full length books. And then they ask if anyone hear wants to be an author and I never put my hand up. And here is why,

Just like with the expecting the worse, I’m scared that if I go out there and let people read my writing, or try to become an author I’ll fail miserably. And I don’t want to fail miserably. Because it will hurt to much! And so I keep it a secret wish, a secret dream and that way I cannot fail, that way I can remain hopeful. But the truth is that I’ll probably not get anywhere because I’m not even really trying.

But there’s another reason why I don’t go round blabbing my ambitions to become an author. That is because there is something a little amazing about having a secret. Especially a secret that brings you happiness. You walk around and feel different because the secret sizzles in your limbs, twinkles in your eyes and hides in the corners of your smile. Because when you have a secret that is a nice secret, you feel empowered by keeping it to yourself. Because you have something that belongs only to you. Something about yourself that no one else knows. And then you tell someone just a little bit of it and you feel so excited as you talk and as if you’re on a sugar high shortly afterwards. But then. Then, after a while your secret starts to feel just a little bit flat. It’s not secret any more and it’s not just for you. And all of a sudden you’re regretting that you opened your mouth to make yourself sound interesting and you wish you could take it back. Because now you are normal and that is one thing you fear most about life (well, I fear most anyway), being normal, having a life devoid of adventure, being no different from the next person. Normal is my enemy. And I think it will defeat me.

I know, in my heart of hearts, that there is little chance of my becoming an author, let alone a successful one. I know that I will probably be a teacher or have an office job or work for a low budget newspaper. But as long as I lie to myself and others about wanting to become an author (although whether not telling is really lying I don’t really know), then there is still hope. And anyway, if it has to be someone Why not me? I feel like I could even do better than some popular writers today. Not many, but a few. So, why not me? But that is something for me to find out in the future and start working for now. And I will, I will start working now for I refuse to let go of my impossible dreams. Like Alice said, I try to believe at least six impossible things before breakfast.

1. That something interesting can happen in real life

2. That I can become an author

3. That boys do care more about your personality than your looks

4. That there is more to life than this

5. That dragons and fey creatures do exist

6. And that I will defeat normal

So long Fx

fitting, don't you think? Also I really want to read it.
fitting, don’t you think? Also I really want to read it.

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