So I was just wondering, do people here share their stories anywhere other than mibba?
For me, I don't tell anyone I write. Except my BFF knows. She's trying to find this website, but huhuhuhuhu I'll never tell her. Nevar~! Argh. Well, it's not like I'm ashamed of my works, more like I was 'traumatised' when I was little, so to speak.
Reason: Let me tell you a sad tale. When I was little, I used to write and draw in all my books. My mum found them (arghh). Did she scold me? No. Did she laugh at me? No. But she just gave me a condescending look that just said 'so THIS is what you do in your free time? Really?'. Ack, I was so embarrassed...
My brother was worse, though. How worse? It went like this:
You hear your older brother innocently calling you. You think he's just calling you to play lego with him, or to just ask you a quick question - like 'what's the time?' Hoping it was the former, you excitedly run to him.
You run into his room and see him. But only to find him holding up a book. Maybe he's going to read me a book? You innocently think. You hear your mental alarms ringing, but you decide against it and stay. Curiosity takes over you.
He tells you to sit and you do so. You glance at the book your brother is holding up. Hey, that looks familiar, you think. But you shrug off the sense of deja vu and wait for your brother to continue. He tells you he's going to read you a story.
"Yay, a story book!" You cheer. As he slowly opens the book, you can't help but stare at the book from all it's familiarity.
Suddenly, it hits you.
To your horror, you have realised you KNOW that book. In fact, you OWN that book. That book, that very same book your brother is holding up, is the book you like to write and draw your stories in.
Mortified, you start to panic inside. "Le-let's read a different book."
Your brother says no.
"Give me the book," you say and hold out your hand.
But no, your brother smiles at you, almost sinister. You could almost hear his smile say: JUST TRY AND STOP ME. And you can just imagine your brother's drawling voice saying it in a jeering tone, almost challenging you to do something, to do anything.
But you can't. You're powerless. You know it and he knows it. And in the end, you are forced to hear your own creations come to life, but from mockery and taunts. You almost cry in frustration and from embarrassment.
After what seems like eternal inner agony, your brother has finally finished reading aloud your 'book'. You feel so tired and exhausted, as if you had finish running a psychological marathon. "You, you bumhead!" You manage to seethe, "I'm telling mum on you!"
Unfazed, your evil brother nonchalantly answers with a cringeworthy line you know you have written.
Defeated, you dramatically collapse to the ground, not that anyone in your family would notice your mental anguish. You gnash your teeth and clench your fists into balls. Because, after what just happened, you know that you have lost something. Something you can never have back, something like your pride, your reputation, your honour... You hang your head in shame and in defeat.
/end
...Whoops, sorry. I didn't mean to write a novel here. But yeah, that's mainly why I just don't like showing people my work. I don't want to hear them read aloud to me. :\
/weird
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I'm bored andI need a life it's been raining here so much lately, that it's been flash flooding. :\ So I don't wanna go out. Also, more than anything, I hate wet feet. :| Yuck. It's so disgusting... A-anyway... Does anyone have any stories they wanna share? :3 Extra points for OF. :)
So I have some questions...
1. Do people in RL know you write?
2. If so, do you show them? / If not, would you tell them you do?
3. Any stories to share / recommend? :3
4. Do YOU hate wet feet?
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