Imaginary
As a kid I remember making up ghost stories that would not only scare my listeners but scare me as well. My stories became real and lived a certain life of their own, breathing and conveying my thoughts through letters jumbled together which formed words, sentences, paragraphs. I have horrible grammar skills, but I still continue to write. I write for myself, I write stories that I am interested in, people I want to be or become. Supernatural beings which can overcome situations I put them in such as dying, cutting, killing, losing, and much more. In most of these circumstances I wouldn't be able to function the way these people seem to function. My characters take on life, embrace it, and learn to love the simple things. My words wrap around them evolving them and giving them personality even if some are a bit disordered. Some seem perfect, and outstanding but through tragedy break down and become a mental case. I love dysfunctional people, probably because I am among them. I am a person who responds awkwardly to many situations and who can be somewhat inhumane. Although there is humanity in that in-humaneness(i know i know contradiction, i do that a lot) a sort of feeling or feelings that are compiled to make one(person) more human, even though that person disregards the impact they have on other beings. I dont know what I am really trying to say, maybe I am just rambling. I think I might be trying to say, a killer, even if he/she killed and didn't care, is still a person, they are still human and on some level they are not as inhumane as we make them out to be. No no, I still dont know what I am really trying to convey but that will have to do, it is close enough to my overall meaning, although it may still sound like I am rambling. I write, not to be an excellent writer or even to write well, but to give my emotions voice and explore things I normally could/would not. To be the crazed drunken vietnam war veteran, to be the serial killer, to be an imaginary thing which feeds off of others fears (IT by Stephen King), I could never and would never dream to be these things, but through my writing and the writing of others, they have life.