I'm Scared To Tell My Stories

I'm Scared To Tell My Stories

I've thought about posting my stories, thoughts, and ideas online for quite a while now, but I have had this block in my head telling me that nobody wants to hear it. Today, I took a deep breath and told myself: nobody has to want to hear it, but you need it out of you.

14

I have felt really into drawing lately. I have a sketchbook with markers and I draw whatever I want to. It makes me feel like a little kid and it is great. I don't have any guidelines. It has helped me recognize my feelings in certain situations. I can be stressed all day and not even know it until I look back at what I drew that day, and I see it's all scribbles and angry colors. I can subvert my attention by recognizing what I'm drawing, then head to the next page and do the opposite. I can make myself feel happy just by using the right colors. I love what color does to the brain.

I've never considered myself an eloquent person. I describe my thought process as a connecting of concepts and colors and pictures, and I sometimes lose the connection to the words. Colors are the big one, because I associate so much with each individual color, that they can get jumbled up around my head. I wish I knew another language so I could at least fake it through my lack of words with "... what is it in English?"

But the thing is, I think that phrase a lot. I have my own language going on in my head, and it is certainly not English. I stop mid sentence explaining something and try to go at it with my hands, and it looks like I am attacking my own sentence. My words come out and once they stop working I need to mush it up and tear apart the fibers so I can find the parts that I missed. I wonder if other people do this too, and then I think, well they must. I'm not the only person to have experienced something. We are at a point in humanity where everything has been tried, and nobody is the first to do anything.

Back to the title. I am afraid of my stories. I fear that if I put in writing what I have seen and felt, what I think, or what I imagine, I will be judged. This is totally silly, nobody is judging me for the things I have endured. Nobody cares about my baggage, they have enough of their own.

So. Here I am. Going down this road where I write things down and put them on the internet. Maybe people will read them. That makes me uncomfortable.

Report this Content
This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.

More on Odyssey

Facebook Comments