Pain

Tonight, as I wrote, I wept. Over my keys, I typed and the tears rolled down my face.

My writing isn't necessarily good. I don't claim that at all. It's not like I wrote something so grand that I moved myself to tears over it. I don't even have enough distance to know if the words I wrote actually convey the depth of meaning I hope that they do. It's more that I have a picture of a story in my head that makes me feel, even if it doesn't do that for anyone else.

I hope the end product is good. But there is nothing I'd give to trade the cathartic experience of tonight. I talked to Seppo about it. It was confusing, emotional. I think that it's being able to write about a fictional character who is not me but with whom I emphatize that is so helpful to me. To recount your own past hurts and happinesses feels a bit too self-indulgent, but being able to give my all to writing the made-up stories of this girl's life is something I can unleash myself on without any conflicting feeling of self-pity or self-aggrandization.