Being a Good Writer or Being a Coward.

There was this time where I texted this guy and asked him to tell me a secret.

This was months ago, late at night. When it's that late, I felt alone and when I feel alone, I become terrified. I don't know. Maybe I was hoping he'd make me feel less alone, less terrified.

He wrote back, "Ninety nine percent of the things I've ever written are complete fiction."
That's a direct quote. I saved it on my phone. Even after we stopped talking, even after I screwed up real bad & was too afraid to ever talk to him again, I still kept that message.

He's a fantastic writer. And I'm not just saying that cause I know him or thought he was attractive. I mean he is a goddamn great writer. I read his stuff as often as I can & I know I'm nowhere near the same level he is. Hell, I know few people who are.

That message has always stuck with me. It's a nice contrast, I guess. Ninety nine percent of my writing is completely true, in one sense or another. I can't write fiction or anything that isn't true. My own experiences, my own pain, my own happiness, my own life, essentially, always comes out. I guess you could say I'm a bad liar. I can't write something without part of myself being on that page, in full display, for anyone to read it. I've never regretted infusing my own personal stuff into my writing. It's the only way I know how. I just don't see the point in telling my story but changing my name to Maria or whoever.

And I don't want to call him a liar, but I don't think I believe him. I've read his stuff. He says it's completely fiction but there is real truth, love, pain, etc. in everything he writes. And I don't know if his ability to convey all of that through fiction is a sign of being a good writer or being a coward.

Maybe it's both.

I don't regret many things in life (I find regret to be a stupid emotion) but I regret not forming a friendship with him. And I may not care what the vast majority of people think of me, but I care what he thinks of me. I haven't seen him in months and I still care what he thinks. I don't know if that's pathetic or tragic.

Maybe it's both.

Love you.
Mean it.