Non Omnis Moriar

To just go straight to the point instead of beating around the bush, I’ll just say a simple sentence; writing has begun to depress me.

I log into Mibba, and one morning, I go from having a thousand reviews to having none at all. Bloodstream toned down majorly after chapter twenty four. There weren’t as much reads, the recs completely shut down and the reviews were very simple, short and meaningless. Save for the ones that cared about me and the story in particular. It hurt me. More than I will ever admit.

I felt hurt, but I let it pass by. It was my first story, and I wasn’t expecting anything to be incredibly famous like dawn of light or dj tommo or chasing carousels;. I really wasn’t, but people kept telling me that I was good at it, that I had talent, that I had gotten a lot of feedback that wasn’t usual in a beginner. I look now into my stories and all I see is my supposedly “fame” dying down. Completely. And it kills me to know that I’ve lost readers and reviewers. That my two top stories are finished.

Though let’s face it, Her Name Is Alice was an absolute success. Everyone loved it, I loved it. The story plot was the most original thing I could come up with, and you guys welcomed it with open arms. Now that Alice is done, I don’t see any activity or anyone reading away my other stories. It’s like one story makes all of me. It doesn’t. Damn it, it doesn’t, alright? I have other ideas! I have other plots, other character that you guys might like! And at this point is when I begin to go desperate.

An hour ago I received a pm. I won’t say who the author is because I respect their privacy. But it was very long. Counted the message in about four thousand words. Guess what was inside it? A “critique”.

Pure hate.

Honestly, what the fuck have I done? Is it true that I’m an attention whore because I plan out my stories? U arent even a directioner, ur a directionator. Lol, ur pathetic just like all of ur stories. Does it make you feel better that I read that message over and over again? Uh? Does it make you feel better that writing, for me, has become a source of stress and not relief? Does it?

It’s the very first time I get hate, and now I understand every celebrity, any author, anyone who got upset over it. To hear over and over on a simple grammar-killer message that you’re a whore with no social life and no talent whatsoever is a fucking downer. Especially when I’m going through a rough patch about my stories. I wonder how their mind works, the one of a hater. Why send it? Why hate me? What have I done to you? I never heard of you in my life! And you just… insult me? Have I made any offense to you? If so, please, enlighten me.

Going back to the subject of my stories, I go back to one month. One single month since I started publishing my work because; “Hey, why not? I mean, it’s not like it’s going to change much of my perspective of writing, is it?” It did. It completely did. I stress over now. Is the chapter long enough? What if they don’t like it? I haven’t gotten many comments on the last chapter… This story looks stupid, now that I think about it. Hey, this one didn’t get as many recs as the other... See what’s going on here? It doesn’t help me. It hurts me. And I want it to stop.

I want to go back to the days when writing meant something for me. Back to when I wrote a short story on my way back over from school. Because, why not? I felt like it. I had an idea. I had to write the idea. I drew the characters in chibi size and then went on tumblr to see if anybody would have a drawing that could help me out to figure some characters on the outside or maybe the inside. I miss those days. I want those days back. Days when I didn’t bawl my eyes out because of a message sent from a grammar-murderer.

And so I’ve come to the conclusion that I need a break from Mibba.

I’ll be gone for as long as I want to. With no ties. No chapters to be uploaded. No nothing. I won’t touch my account for as long as I want to, and I won’t feel like I owe you guys anything because I don’t need to. I don’t. It’s my life. It’s my fucking writing, my fucking stories, and if you don’t like them you can whine to your bitchy ass computer about it, but not to me. To the hater? Go fuck yourself. I don’t need anyone putting me down when I’ve got problems of my own.

And when you say I don’t have a social life? Well, you’re fucking right, and I’m not fucking scared to admit it. I have no friends save my fucking goldfish. Happy to know? I’ve been living for some few fucking years in Spain already and I’ve got no friends whatsoever because I’m just so fucking shy that no one talks to me. I sit at lunch alone. I do my projects alone. My father left me when I was three years old and my mom’s a fucking drunk slut who moved to Spain because there was party. Happy now? I’ve got no fucking social life. I don’t want to. People break you. People stab you on the back. People let you down. People like you. So fuck you. Have a fucking nice day, cunt.

And now this blog won’t be read either. Not even by the people who still read me. Chasing carousels; will read it. No one else. Maybe dawn of light. Probably iron and wine.. Not sure about Bea, heatherlight, though, she’s got a lot of shit on her right now and her writing isn’t a priority. Might try to visit her before summer’s over. She’s my only friend.

So now that this is done, I’d like to thank those who made my month in Mibba absolutely wonderful. Chasing carousels; and iron and wine. above all. You both were absolutely wonderful with me. I’m sorry about A Drop in the Ocean, Micah, but I can’t do it. You more than anyone know what it is when you stop caring for your writing, for a story. Bea told me about Don’t Count on Rain and Playground Eyes. I wish I could’ve read them. She told me they were wonderful. And Kayla, love. You’re wonderful. I don’t think Mibba would’ve been the same if you hadn’t been there supporting me. I’m sorry for leaving, and it’d probably be a while before I come back again.

Oh, and for your information, I won’t stop writing. I will, though, on Mibba. I feel tied down to it, and that was exactly what I didn’t want. I’m leaving my stories in here out of me, though. I’ll probably take As Long As You Love Me, though, and continue it. Doesn’t have much to do with One Direction save some Niall, so it won’t remind me much of the stories I’m leaving. Now, to the hater, because I see you capable of doing this, as I’ve seen that you’ve already done it before. Don’t you dare plagiarize one of my stories and put it up on onedirectionfanfiction.com. Because of one thing I’m sure of, and it is that I swear to God I’ll rip your head off. Plagiarism is disgusting. Therefore, you disgust me.

Thanks again for nothing. Fuck you. Have a nice day. Please, help yourself on the way over to the exit and flip me off. I don’t give a fuck anymore. Though I’ll let you know something. You know what Non Omnis Moriar means? It means not all of me shall die. So when you get out of this entry, when you shut down your computer, and when a month, a year, or a century passes, this account will still be here. Which means that my stories will be here. I may be gone, my comments won’t be replied to, but if there’s something that I’m sure of, again, its that, for real? NOT. ALL. OF. ME. SHALL. DIE.
August 15th, 2012 at 06:14am