A lifelong desire of mine has been to write. As a child I wrote, even though it needed something, pizzazz; but as a child, my abilities were very limited as you may see in the writing below:
I do not have any friends, and nobody likes me. Just Collie likes me some of the time. Not all the time. She has a mother and father that love her. she is my friend. All the kids have nice things but I don’t. I wish I could die because my mommy an ddaddy hate me. I want to die but what do I do to do thaht?
As you can see, I had much to learn, and I did that along the road to adulthood. I sure wish I kept them so I could us them for other posts. Fool that I am, I destroyed them.
There were diaries through childhood abuse, tossed out. I guess that they served their purpose. Diaries I also kept through 2 abusive marriages and where are they now? They have all been destroyed, but yet I love to write. I guess that I didn’t see any reason to keep them at the time, but as I write now, I can see the value of them. Some would have made some good stories base.
When I write now, I keep everything no matter how bad it happens to be. When I was in therapy I wrote everyday. Even if there are parts I don’t want exposed, I don’t expos it, but that is nothing new to writers. They have been doing this for years, and it works well.