I used to wish that my fantasies could come true, so I would be able to share with other what I have been through. In writing that happens to be the subject I am most fruitful writing in. To weave stories, that helps ruminate on what life might be or what it could be. And to create one fantasy that could last you moment in time, but warmth in life.
Sometimes to reach it I get seriously nervous on what I should write, that I blank out on what I am thinking, even the page I am writing. I get nervous because I think of all the possibilities of how my reader might comprehend this. All this causes me to not write at all. I just want to be able to serve my world on a silver platter, and have the best way to make you experience it. So at the end of each story, I am grateful for every reader, since I could image that it got to you. It wasn’t a waste of all that anxiety.
It is my wish for people to know my stories. Each and every story here either poem or fiction has a basis from real people around me. Some that are fantasized to the extreme to make the image of reality distorted but truthful to the persons feelings. Or some that I tell about their story itself in all the lines of the actual situation.
But all in all, it is only a wish. Something that could be granted or not. It will be rugged climb. But I still want to climb the stairs of reality to be able see it happen one day. 😀