Reignite has been very difficult for me to get through. Some of you who have been following my blog over the past year are very well aware of how terrible the breakup I went through a year and a half ago with my ex, not-so-affectionately nicknamed Satan, was. This short story has been more or less about finding some closure with that relationship, as, surprise surprise, he was too much of a coward to grant me any. Writing has been my way of working through that. Of course, I have been told on SEVERAL occasions by a close friend that I should’ve gone to a therapist, but no one really wants to believe that they are fucked up enough to need therapy, and I didn’t want to believe that either. So, I did what I always do, I wrote about it. Although I do some pretty solid editing on all blog posts before I hit the “publish” button, writing a short story is nothing like blogging as the story has more characters than just me and an awful man-child.
Because of this, I wrote with my emotions with no heed for the damage I was doing to the short story because I just had to release the poison that I had been holding onto (against my will, I will say!). So this editing process has been much harder than any other literature I’ve worked on because in cleaning the story, I have to think about all of the characters’ motivations, what they think like, and why they do what they do. So, naturally, that brings back a lot of unwanted memories about someone I was supposed to bury in words a long time ago.
I’ve been putting it off. Haven’t finished the poetry collection, As I Write to You, which is something I started working on at the beginning of the relationship with this same guy. You know, when everything was all peach pussy and cream-filling, which is my long-winded way of explaining why As I Write to You is still in the works even though I have plenty of raw material to give the world a new poetry collection.
Another thing I’ve been feeling some type of way about is this blog post I read on Madame Noire that said that blogging about the bullshit in your relationships was childish, something that you should give up by the time you graduate from college. But how do you write about relationships…without writing about relationships? Is it childish to share your experiences about childish men? Also, I don’t always bash the men I’ve dated, only the ones that I have zero respect for. On rare occasions, I actually date people who turn out not to be complete and total assholes, who are consistently great people throughout our time dating, and who end our relationships in a thoughtful way that doesn’t include disappearing into thin air, never to be heard from again. Why should I respect the memories of men who have shown me so little respect during our time together? I’ve totally kicked the habit of waiting for Karma, even if I have put to bed several brilliant revenge schemes (which Madame Noire also says is a childish endeavor).
What is childish is luring someone into a relationship by pretending to be a great person, only to turn out to be a total waste of time, a piece of shit, emotionally traumatizing, and nightmare-inducing. I’m not going to lie and say I’m the most amazing person to date in the world, because I know I’m not, but I do know that I’m consistent. If I’m a total asshole the day we meet, I MIGHT just become a sweeter asshole given time, long talks, drunk nights, and long walks on the beach. A sweeter asshole is still an asshole. I don’t think it’s asking too much of someone who swears he’s a grown ass man for a little goddamn consistency.
With all of that being said, I’ve basically been avoiding all projects that came into existence because of him. So anything that has been inspired by his presence in my life has been giving me anxiety. Does that mean that I’m not totally over how terrible the relationship was? I don’t know and I halfway don’t care. When I drop dead, I don’t want it to be said that Maple Summers was a very talented writer who could not finish projects because she was so traumatized from her horrid relationships that writing about love gave her terrible flashbacks, and so, she drank herself into a daily oblivion, and one day, drowned in her own vomit leaving us with nothing but an exciting blog, more broken dreams, and unwritten songs.
Before I go, I’d like thank all of my wonderful readers. Your daily nudges, emails, tweets, Instagram comments, and Facebook messages really do help me keep going on those days where I feel like I should just stick to being a blogger and never write novels. I have many story outlines in the works and have been doing so much research and learning about murder, law, African-American history and several other topics in order to bring the most kick-ass books to this world that I can come up with. Readers, you all rock.