Here's a little story about me, about my skill to paint a grim little scene, to make the mind creak, to talk of those things which we don't like to speak.
I was a girl of sixteen and I had a dream, to exist so broken hearted that I would know, know to the core, that love was as real as I thought it should have been.
I was dramatic to say the least and wrote poems spanning ages, wrote of crashed cars and seeing those eyes again later, FEELING that stare, knowing that though time had passed, he'd not actually gone anywhere.
English class came, seemed so lame, most days in the back with the boys, getting out of work with the most clever ploys.
Then one day the teacher said, we could share our writing, with all the others, to my inner longings this seemed inviting.
I stood up there looking at my fellow rebels and freaks, looking at the rave kids and the geeks, I mustered the courage to spill out the words, only concepts my inner head had ever previously heard.
I spoke of a guy, a drug addict on his small cot, four walls and loneliness were his lot, if no needle in his veins then it was all for naught, I painted his sadness and all the hardships he now caught.
As I read in a regular voice, the room was so quiet I could hear no noise, I looked up worried and in fear that no attention was near, then I saw the tears, I saw the cocky guys with distant downcast eyes, the rave chick with choking sighs, I decided this would be the last time I wrote for a very long while, that I'd need to cause my skill's demise.
The reason you stopped writing is the reason I keep writing....To reach out to people and give them even a slice or glimpse into my life and the struugles and hardships for people like me. All in hopes of educating some,causing others to educate themselves and ultimately working towards ending stigma!
I send out my most humble and gracious of thanks to you for the invitation. Now that formalities are over, thank you so much for your kind words and thinking of me in the regard of joining your group. I actually enjoy your work and hope you continue to do so. There are times in which we experience moments such as those found in 'Why I Stopped Writing' and it is those movements that you realise what you are really capable of. So with that I thank you once again and I look forward to more of your work and that of the group's.