They say there are cookies, but I generally find more sharp objects than any delicious baked goods.

I thought about posting one of my darker pieces tonight. It’s short and I like it but… I don’t want to. Phil read one of my darker pieces and suggested I write a story around it. After all, Stephen King got famous writing creepy, dark stuff, but I pointed out that he probably got most of his friends after he was a published author and everyone already knew he was that messed up. My friends know I’m somewhat messed up but… why spoil a good thing?

I like dark writing, though. Mostly my own, but have you read Prince of Thornesby Mark Lawrence? Good stuff. That said, hold onto your morals because they’ll be put through the wringer. Lots of people on the fence about that trilogy.

I’ve thought about it a lot. Why do I like brutal, painful writing so much?

I’m not much of a visual thinker. If you ask me if I know someone and then start to describe them, I assure you I’m patiently waiting for you to finish your description so I can just say ‘no’ because nothing you’ve said has built any kind of image in my mind. When I see the person, I can understand what you were talking about, but no image comes to mind. Thanks for trying! 

However, I am an emotional thinker. When I picture myself in a car, it’s not the dashboard and road I see. I feel the pressure of the cabin, the expectation of purpose, the weight of the seatbelt. I can make myself see the car itself, but it takes a lot more work, and if you ask me to describe it, I can. But it’s hard. 

Those emotions in the dark stories are so rich. It reads like that taste of sunburn after you had so much fun at the beach. You know it’ll fade but it sucks in the moment. Nevertheless, the undertone is how much fun you had all day. The weariness in your body from being put to its purpose. And every time your shirt scrapes over that burn, you regret it. The burn, not the day. Next time you’ll remember sunscreen. Right?

I’m no masochist. Pain doesn’t do anything for me. But there are all those legends about emotional vampires and I can see something to that. Extroverts, raise your hand if you remember that first taste of making a group of people laugh. Not the scene; that’s long since faded. The feeling, though, man… it’s like a drug I just can’t get enough of and every hit just puts me high in the sky. It’s a long way to fall, so why bother coming down at all?

That’s why you gotta make friends with introverts. They wanna leave the party early and you have a reason to get some sleep and eat once in a while.

February 05, 2021

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