Dear Me

A letter to the Writer that I scared away.

Dear Writer Self,

I owe you an apology. You were just starting to come out of your shell, to feel like you could be a bigger, better part of me, and I acted like an over eager date and scared you away. I brought up marriage before the first course and by the time I got to dessert you were texting your friend begging them to call and tell you that your grandfather died. Again. When we got to my front door I leaned in for the kiss and you said “thatwasgreathanksbye” and went trotting off down the street, out of sight and probably started running as soon as you rounded the corner.

I’m sorry.

I don’t know what I’m doing, and I can admit that now. I don’t know how to write a writing sample for a job or a blog, I don’t know how to put together a story in the three act structure, I don’t know how to write a script that doesn’t have at least some portion of dialogue that sounds like me talking to myself.

I just know that I love to write, and create stories however I can. I know I love to create. I tried to push you in to a product, in to an unrealistic schedule when you just wanted to figure out what the days of the week were. Sink or swim doesn’t always work and you are proof of that. So I’m sorry, for judging you so harshly, for trying to push you before you were ready, for making you out to be something that you weren’t. I’m in a different place, a better place now. I’m not saying let’s go back to the marriage conversation, but how about we take it slow? Meet up with some other people who also like to write? How about we reintroduce ourselves as the people we are now?

Sincerely,

Zoë

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