Stages

When I was younger I used to only write when I was upset, it would allow me to compartmentalize my thoughts and actually realize what I was feeling instead of just feeling it and being confused. The only problem is writing when you're upset doesn't exactly lend itself to proper grammar and I would end up with a page full of incomplete sentences and half-thoughts. Not the most desirable outcome when one wants to continue writing for the purpose of being read, but at least it was a start. After that I would only ever write to better my penmanship, an exercise my dad thought important but at this point I believe he uses conventional methods less than I do and is captivated by the keys. Then came college, and the only reason I wrote is because I was forced to (now of course I could say that I had the choice to not write and fail out of college but that wasn't really a choice I found desirable).

So here sit I, still in the pupae stage of the page. What will emerge from my cocoon? Perhaps a cockroach, perhaps.