One day, I was playing a friend a few of my original songs. He turned to me afterwards and said: “Those are some heavy lyrics.” It wasn’t that I had never noticed that my writing – both songs and prose – can veer to the dark side, but it did make me stop and think: why am I attracted to the darkness?
I’m sitting in the shop where I hang out, vaping on New York Cheesecake by The Real, with the book in front of my face. The black leather couches are so comfortable. I start laughing senselessly and all my friends are looking as if I have really lost it. I guess it’s only acceptable to laugh at a movie, not a book. I guess that’s weird; I don’t know. I read it again, and try to stifle the second laugh, but I can’t. It’s so funny. I want to repeat it to one of them, but I don’t, and I’m glad I didn’t.
I read a book.
It was my kind of novel. Dark, sexy anti-hero, forbidden romance, time missed. There was so much buzz around the literary universe about the book and how amazing it was.
I read it in a day.
**Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse
If I could paint a picture…
The colors would all be shades of violence, rage and depression
stark, bloody reds, midnight blues and black streaks
bruised purples, sickly greens
I was recently prompted by TheLadders to share my thoughts on writing careers — which is truly an honor, really — and I wanted to take my opportunity to share my own writing story with those who are thinking about jumping into this crazy universe.