LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE

Had enough of my bullshit

There’s ALWAYS something to write about. So sick of my lies to myself. Telling myself because I haven’t left the house in a week, there’s nothing to write about.

LIAR.

I can picture my older sister pointing her finger at me as a kid, saying “Liar liar, pants on fire” like she did every time she caught me trying to pull one over our mother’s head.

Enough with my lies to myself. I’M A FUCKING WRITER. I’m gonna own that shit from this day forward.

Time to be a baller.

No, not a drug dealer, that was my fault for asking Unsplash for a baller picture, lol.

What I meant was it’s time to level up. Be free and fearless in my writing like so many of you writing ballers.

I’ve been reading other people’s stories all morning.

One is by Shame on Us in Illumination called “IF YOU LIVE IN MY APARTMENT BUILDING YOU’RE A GHOST. EVERYONE IN THIS BUILDING HAS A STORY.” It’s about living in a ghetto without material wealth and the struggles of many of the residents there. He only used one letter to describe the people that also live there and yet I feel that I know them intimately. Like a Peeping Tom. Beautifully written and a heart-wrenching story. I bawled my fucking eyes out. The mother/nana in me needs him to keep writing so I can one day read his story about escaping, it will happen.

Another story I loved was written by Ute Luppertz 💫also in Illumination called “POTATO PANCAKES WITH LOVE AND OTHER TREASURES”. It was warm and inviting like her Oma’s kitchen. Not like the bedrooms. I can smell her kitchen and I wish I was there. I felt like I was there getting a hug from that story this morning.

I bawled my fucking eyes out at both of those stories. And it made me realize what a fucking liar I’ve been to myself. Telling myself because I was stuck on the couch with a broken leg I had nothing to write about, wallowing in self-pity for months.

LIAR

Or being sucked back into my depression again, for whatever reason my mind goes there, days and days going by while I lay there frozen, thinking I had nothing of value to contribute.

LIAR

All along the stories were always inside of me just like they’re inside of all of you too. The memories that we have, good or bad, are our stories.

I’ve been calling myself the niche-less writer of Medium for 4 months. Confusing my followers with the probably bipolar writer inside of me. I’m on top of the world one day, waking up wanting to spread love and kindness and hug random strangers. Then there’s the other end of the spectrum when I wake up and think there’s nothing to live for.

IT’S ANOTHER LIE, LIFE IS WORTH LIVING.

I just never know what day it will be until I open my eyes. It’s always a surprise. Trying to improve these last couple of months I found a way to trick my inner demons. The earlier I wake up, when they’re still sleepy, the easier it is to tell myself what kind of day I’m going to have.

I put myself in charge, taa daa.

Hence why I’ve been up and on Medium since 2 am, lol (today is a good day).

And all of it comes through in my writing no matter what kind of day I’m having. How embarrassing.

But here’s the thing…

I found a 36-year-old diary yesterday I didn’t know existed and it flooded me with all these memories. I have hundreds of nostalgic stories coming to my mind now and I’m eventually going to write them all. I can’t believe all along there was a gold mine inside of me, a freaking gold mine people. I own a goldmine, who knew?

And so do you.

So I just wanted to share with all of you in case there’s anyone out there who could have lower self-esteem than me, thinking they have nothing important in life to write about.

YOU’RE LYING TO YOURSELF.

You have you. Your unique, crazy-ass self is all you need. Share it, spread it, embrace it.

I have almost 1,500 followers in 4 months on Medium who seem to love my crazy-ass. Who knew?

And I think I finally found a niche. Nostalgia. Fuck it. I’m going to embrace the crazy old woman with a lot of stories inside of me.

My love to every one of you going through trials and tribulations. Your secret sauce is the stories they create.

Now go on and write something.

Go on now, get!

♥