Why am I a slow writer? …You just are.

I’m writing the prologue for my visual novel still. Trying to figure out so much on how it would be like if someone runs away from a friend who betrayed you. They’re out to KILL you. EEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! Go! Go away! NAO! PLS. I’ll give you 5 dollars.


Then in actuality, it’s not that friend who’s out to kill you. It’s…!! WHO IS IT!? Your eyes were so focused on that “friend” Now… YOU DIE!

“No… I don’t deserve this…”
“What did I ever do to you?”
“All I want to be is…”
“…I want to be friends!!”

“Friends” with this… stranger!? This shadow that you don’t even—
“AHW MAH GAWD I thought you were someone I know. I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND! WHO ARE YOU!?

No one knows. Not you. Not anyone around. Not even… ITSELF.

I have no idea what I’m talking about now.
Let me just… practice. Writing stuff. Okay? Okay.

During the night, the girl who I thought was my best friend ran after me with a knife. I looked into her eyes. They were eyes of a murderer, craving for bloodshed. This isn’t the friend I knew. Was this person ever my friend? Do I really know her?

There was no way. The moonlight in this dark, midnight sky reveals her immorality. I can’t think. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything else but run.

Running, running, running…

…Until my limbs collapse. How much longer should I run?
I don’t want this. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die alone.

Then that’s when I stopped running on the asphalt road of this eerie neighborhood. I was far from that girl with the knife. That girl who I thought was my friend. But strangely, I knew someone was behind me. Someone was right there. So close, yet it feels so far away—almost as if the clock is ticking in slow-motion.

Finally, It came so soon. That presence I felt. It’s so close. I can feel it holding me in its arms. I can’t think, I can’t speak, and I can’t even move. I could only hear the faint whisper of two mischievous words in my ear.

“Found you.”

You know what…
I can scare myself when I write…
There’s a mirror next to my computer and a dark hallway behind me and I kept looking at it like SOMETHING. IS THERE.
This always happens when I write something like this. It’s like
*writes creepy scene* “Oh gawd” *looks at the mirror* “Okay good… nothing… there… NO THAT’S A LIE!! SOMETHING IS THERE I KNOW IT DAMN IT!

Okay you know what. I’m done. I’m just done.


3 thoughts on “Why am I a slow writer? …You just are.

  1. Pingback: Scared? ARE YOU AN IDIOT!? | Am I a Pokemon!?

  2. Pingback: Swimming through grass + opinion on guys? | Am I a Pokemon!?

  3. Pingback: Singing in my head isn’t important! Writing is + outline!! | Am I a Pokemon!?

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