RambleLamb

I feel you.  I cried so much writing Breaking the Girl, I almost deleted huge chunks of it because it felt so dark, so wrong.  The best stories have a kernel of you in them, and if you're writing from your own trauma, that's gonna bring some pain.  You can do it hun, and you'll feel better when it's through.

I have faith in you - finish it or don't, I'll love you no matter what.

I have written, deleted, rewritten and redeleted so much of this story I probably have three stories worth of content on the cutting room floor.

The prompt was "A young woman was born with the ability to read minds, she hears everyone's secrets, their lies, and because of that she ostracizes herself from everyone. When she meets a girl who doesn't think about her as a piece of meat, or a pity case, or even a freak, no she only wants to... baby her?" and I know that there's a way to write the story without the reader or myself going through an emotional meat grinder, but that doesn't feel real to me.

In comics you have a character that can read minds and, more often than not, when we meet them they're already comfortable with their power, they aren't pulling their hair out because they have to hear everyone's thoughts all the time or crawling into a corner to escape the world and I felt like being a woman, and a woman of color to boot, it would be beneficial for my character to have her "origin story" talk about those very real problems.

When we live in a world where people SAY the most fucked up shit about races, genders, sexual orientations and religions, what must it be like to hear the things people AREN'T saying? Like, what if the kindly old man that runs the little market is thinking anti-Semitic shit about me while I pull out my wallet? What if friends that I'm talking to are thinking how much they actually dislike me? What if I find out that someone I care about is dying but is struggling with being able to vocalize that news to anyone?

I find myself falling down a rabbit hole of hypothetical questions that shouldn't exist and questioning every relationship I have because of stupid bullshit like "what if?" or "but really...". This story is amplifying my already high level of insecurity and low self esteem and it's stupid because it's a goddamned story! Put on your fucking big girl pants and write, it's what you do when you're struggling, but the rub is that I write to escape these feelings and thoughts, to vent the pressure to keep from having to hit the emergency release valve shaped like a razor but now the thing I do for comfort is the thing I need comfort from and that's putting me in this tailspin of not knowing what to do with myself.

The thing I keep coming back to, and the thing that's keeping me writing this is the fact that I feel like if something can hurt and affect me this deeply then it has to be good, right? I mean, this has to be one of those things that when people finish it they just kind of sit for a second and really consider what they read, right? But then I remember that the vast majority of people that MIGHT read my story will probably roll out once they get the feeling that there won't be an orgasm at the end or middle, wherever they usually conclude. It's kind of a double edged sword because I'm not good enough to write for the mainstream but I write too much dark and emo shit to not please the vast majority of people in the fetish community. I use abdl as a crutch to write without feeling like there's any stakes, if a bunch of perverts don't like something I wrote, does it mean anything? That's really fucked up of me to think that way, but yeah.

Also, before anyone reading this wants to riot about that last part, I'm a pervert too, I'm not throwing shade, I'm just not going to front like this is the same as writing for a publication or a book or something. I write wank stories but try to elevate them sometimes so I don't feel scummy about my choice of hobby. I've rambled on for a while now, sorry.