Disappointment= Writing

People sometimes wonder why I write so much. They look at me strangely when I enter something like NaNoWriMo because how could I possibly have that many words in me? How can I possibly have a story in me that can keep going for so many words in so little time, and that isn't filled with the same word repeated thousands of times.

They hear of me writing stories on the side, long stories. If they join me for a car ride, I'll often say, out of nowhere, "I have a new story idea," and they laugh. I'm like an impossibility. Maybe they think I'm faking it. Really, I'm not. I do have that many story ideas, and more, because I'll have some I don't even know where to take, or how to do, but the idea is there. It's for someone else, but it's there.

I'm a dreamer, I guess. More so, I fail at expectations. I think it's the failure that really brings out the writing. Being a dreamer might induce a lot of ideas, but I find it's the disappointment that I always seem to produce in others that sparks the dreamer in me.

It's great how I'm always a disappointment to at least one of my parents all the time. If I'm lucky, both. And then there's the people not my parents. My teachers (though I get awesome marks, I do procrastinate and that seems to be the devil-word), the rest of my family, my friends. I'm nothing like anyone expects me to be. Except maybe me.

Oh well. At least I'm not disappointed in me. I'm usually on my side. Even if I'm the only one standing there. More iced tea and petit fours for me.

The perfect recipe for a cacophony of story ideas.


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