Life of an Indian Teenage Girl

Questioning everything

I used to love writing. There was nothing else that I wanted to do. If there was anything I wanted to be it was to be a writer. I just loved writing.

But now I'm questioning myself. What's the point? My work is terrible! Now I know a few of the really nice people here would tell me otherwise even if it's not true but, I have made up my mind that I'm no good at writing.

Why am I still writing? In case I decide to leave, you guys should know why. That's all.

I'm not only questioning myself in questioning everything I love. Do I really love writing? Yes, yes I do.

Am I any good at it? No, no I'm not.

And anything that anyone says to prove me wrong will just not register in my head without receiving and immediate "NO".

I've been feeling a lot of negativity lately. I feel ignored. I feel like I'm not worth anything I have and I feel like I shouldn't be feeling what I feel.

It's annoying when every time I open this app the first thing I remember is my whimsical, almost impossible dream of becoming a writer.

Then I see the paid stories and the published books and the books that were made into movies and then I know that there is no way that any of my work would ever come to that level.

I'm so downcast and so unmotivated that I can't even write. This would probably be the last chapter for quite a long time.

Alex Sailor was supposed to be an amazing fantasy book but, it turned out to be a hollow book with no structure whatsoever.

Venom in heart was supposed to be a murder thriller but even that turned out to be a short story without much thrill!

Then there is Stars Collide that was actually my fourth grade brain's idea. Yes, it is the story that my fourth grade mind had made up but was never able to write.

And oh yes! My poetry shop! How could I forget about that utter failure!

And let's not even talk about my three poetry collections. Those are the only books that I'm at least slightly proud of.

I don't even think many people have read that that's why I'm writing this here, in hopes that people would read it.

Like many other chapters in this book, I have absolutely no idea how to end this on a good note. I probably can't.