I Guess I Like Pain

An assignment for class had me looking at creative writing journals. I found three that were pretty interesting. One is running a contest. The theme is "childhood". I had a good one, but there were some pretty upsetting things that I experienced. Funny, two of the experiences I remember were submerged until I became an adult and was trying to sort out the past.

And so far, over this damn essay, I've cried twice. Part of the reason I haven't done well at adulthood is that I really never wanted to grow up. I still feel like a helpless little kid, doing everything I can think of to make things right, and feeling like I'm still failing. And no one has the solution. Not even me.

This essay is making me miserable, but because I'm a perfectionist, I'll keep working away on this until it says everything I want to say (within the word count, that is) and send it in.

I mean, I won the last contest I entered. I knew I would. Because no one had the kind of story I had, and no one could tell it the way I could. Funny, how I knew I would win. I just knew.

But maybe, through this assignment, I've found more places to try sending my work. However, it better not involve the amount of tears I've shed for this piece.