I recently learned that I enjoy writing much, much more than I enjoy hearing what people think about what I write. Case in point: I’m typing this whilst nestled on the couch, and my partner has just leaned over and commented on my title, and now here I am, self-conscious, resisting the urge to close my laptop and come back to this in the morning. I’ve instinctively turned a little to angle my screen away; as if I’m writing filthy secrets; as if I’m not going to hit ‘publish’ at some point and have these words sent into his inbox.
on screaming into the abyss
on screaming into the abyss
on screaming into the abyss
I recently learned that I enjoy writing much, much more than I enjoy hearing what people think about what I write. Case in point: I’m typing this whilst nestled on the couch, and my partner has just leaned over and commented on my title, and now here I am, self-conscious, resisting the urge to close my laptop and come back to this in the morning. I’ve instinctively turned a little to angle my screen away; as if I’m writing filthy secrets; as if I’m not going to hit ‘publish’ at some point and have these words sent into his inbox.