Updated: Feb 2
From the outside looking in, you would never guess. It was insipid, toxic, poisonous, the infection ran deep.
Or or something like that.
That bit might in the introduction ⬆️
Bad things can happen that set the narrative of the your story.
We all have a story to tell. Good or bad.
Trying to change that bad narrative and grow in a healthier direction is as, if not more painful and lonely as the core wound chapters but that’s where the story really is. In the pain. Pain is growth. Growth can change the narrative from bad to good.
I‘m striving for a happier ending. Not a woe is me horror story of inner turmoil and being a whinging twat.
No one WANTS a depressing story do they? Not on purpose.
I really really hope that my experience is part of the bigger experience, a collective experience, universal, maaan. Some may call that the divine experience. That way, my story might actually matter and be of some fucking use. I hope so.
Hope. I want to write a story of growth and hope, in the end. Growth out of sheer sadness and toxicity into happiness and redemption.
There‘s an actual book waiting to be written. No one would read it but it’s waiting to be written.
I might write it in crayons and just scan it in, using the first terrible draft and publish that just to make the internet an even more auful place. Good idea ✅
The art work for the first two to four chapters would be really shit and s bit creepy though and get progressively worse but more cheerful towards the end. Still shit though.
The art might look something like this in chapters 1 to 3 or 4 ⬇️
I’ll come back to this entirely random weird blog entry eventually and expand on it with more horrible scribbled art work.
Perhaps, there IS an actual book of some description to be created with weird art and a strange story of recovery and redemption to be told. But purposefully awful and unreadable. For fun 🥳
The ideas are there, lurking around in the back of my skull. Really really bad ideas. Puke. It’ll be wonderful.