Curse of the Writer

It happened again. Knowing me I don’t know why I’m so surprised. For a year I’ve been happy and carefree, but I knew it was just a matter of time. Now it’s back. Torturing my dreams. Day and night. I can’t switch it off now that it’s been switched on again. Can’t run or hide. No escape. I must sound like a drama queen but trust me this is no exaggeration. There is no escape. I have kept them at bay. All these other lives and memories that I see. Some call me a writer and they say it’s a blessing. Ha! What a blessing! It’s not. This curse I hold inside of me is what will drive me insane, right to edge. What many people don’t know or couldn’t even begin to fathom is that writing is a dangerous thing. Stories originate from somewhere and the people in them are real. These people are what nightmares cannot even begin to describe. It’s like some sick joke. I get to invade someone’s privacy, sneak into their life and trap a piece of them in my stories. I can’t do anything to help or save them I just get to watch. Watch as their lives fall apart and record it. Then people get to read it. No, these people are not magical or from another world. They are everyday people. You. Me. And no, I don’t get visions I tell stories. But, somewhere these stories are happening to someone. I don’t know where or to whom. I’m just a lucky writer who gets the details, puts them to paper and makes a fortune selling people their stories back. If I had a say in this, it would be a lot different. I’d save every person I could. Unfortunately, we don’t get to choose what our burden will be in life. We just get given it. Guess right about now you want a couple of characters whom you’ll live through for the duration of this tale. Don’t worry they’re coming. They always do. But be warned. Don’t get attached or too invested you will lose them once the last page is turned....