You want to hear a truth?

I hate my writing. I hate all that I write, written, and will write. Because where everyone sees this art piece, this idea being expanded upon, this story I created, I see me. I see myself struggling to thread the story together like trying to sew a blanket by hand. It's so shittily put together that it could easily come undone. I see my struggles through the lines, the meaningless words screaming out the problems my brain exaggerated. 

I see those nights I was so close slitting my wrists, chugging that bottle of pills, tying that rope...I see that lost kid trying so hard to satisfy but never being satisfied. 

And people praise me for it as if I did a service. And yeah, I like to convince myself that I have but I've done nothing. I've made shitty stories about shitty characters because I can't bother to think of them myself. 

I hate my writing because each word feels meaningless. I wait and wait and wait to hear what people think and I never get a response. I read it over and over and over and all I see are it's flaws. The little praise I get can't outweigh the overwhelming silence I get. 

And that silence allows for me to remember where it came from. It makes me remember being stuck in that room endless typing on that fucking keyboard trying to make some sense. It makes me remember those days when I was forced to drown out my parents yelling with nonsensical music just to stay afloat. It makes me remember the meaning I thought wrote down. It makes me remember all those people that have left me, that I tried so hard to spread my voice to. 

I hate my writing because all I see is me. The vulnerable me. The me that thought nothing would end. Which is why I write in past tense. Because each word is in the past now. I want to forget and move on but I still find myself coming back and I see my writing slowly becoming more soulless than the next. I'm slowly losing that novelty. 

A novelty I hate so much yet miss. 

I miss all those problems because there were good things in those days. When I see words of music in old writing, I see that love for music that's gone mute in me. When I see words of hope in old writing, I see the hope I miss having that had me motivated. When I see words of love, I see how naive I was and see childhood. The childhood I wish I could back to because I loved and hoped for things. 

In truth, I hate my writing because I miss the past.