THE RETURN
in which a nervous girl loves to write her silly words
Can a girl live without writing??? No, she can’t, I’ve learned that the hard way. In the new year I’ve begun to write in my journal again. The tiny details of my day, love letters I’ll never send, feelings I’ll never share with anyone else. My tiny notebook that I keep for story ideas - Moominpappa drinking a bottle of beer emblazoned on the front - is finally in use again. Something in my mind is flowing. Short stories and bad poems are slowly filling my ‘recent documents’ section again, mixed in among the shopping lists and university essays. I can already feel that the simple act of pencil on paper, of fingers on keys, is healing a hole inside me. I’m meant to be a writer. Even if it never becomes my livelihood, even if nobody ever reads a story I write, even if I’m the only person who appreciates my own craft, I know it’s what I was put here to do.
And so, the natural following point…… a revival (of sorts) of my long dead, barely used substack! I’ve obsessively reread every semi-coherent piece I’ve written in the last couple of years, and reading my old, now private substack posts made something in my heart glow. They’re good! They’re meaningful! I was making poetic, if shoddy, pages about the most important things in my life, and they read well!!! A piece of my own writing never sounds good to me until a year later, at least. But that’s okay, I’m beginning to realise. I’m unpractised, I’m young, I’m not perfect. What I’m writing now sounds trite and silly to me, two paragraphs of waffle, but in a year I may read this and find something in it. And maybe, maybe, one day I’ll be able to read something I’ve written only the next day and see the beauty in it. And if I don’t, at least I’ll die knowing I tried!
I’m not sure how often I’ll post on this. I don’t want to commit to anything hastily and feel silly for not fulfilling it. My diary entries and my stories will take priority for my writing time, I suppose. But I want to practise the horrifyingly vulnerable act of sharing my words, the inner world of my writing, even in very small very deliberate very edited portions to very small audience. I want the sick feeling when somebody reads and judges my work to lessen. I hope some somebody will enjoy reading this, whatever I end up posting, and even if you don’t care about anything I say I hope you have a great day and a great life.
Thank you to everyone who knows me for your time and love and friendship, and if anyone is reading this who doesn’t - I hope we can share our time and love and friendship in the future!
Seeing you all soon, or possibly not,
Love,
Kitty



very, very resonating :')
excited to (hopefully) hear more from you kitty ! <3