For some reason, my first instinct after something goes wrong is to grab a pencil and a sheet of paper and begin to write. Sometimes, what I write has nothing to do with my issues. Sometimes, it’s just comforting to make up my own little world where everything is perfect, black and white and resolved. I’m doing it right now. A failed audition and a bitter week have pushed me back to my trusted journal. My fists ache from being balled up forever, even in my sleep. But you know what’s horribly ironic? I’ll try to throw together the perfect story to write away the negativity and my spirits begin to rise at the potential of the story and then I hit my wall and it all comes crashing DOWN.



But I will not abandon my escape.