The only problem with writing for other people’s eyes is that they assume they know what I’m referring to. Each word and feeling is directly related to me, the author, because other people can’t see what I’m seeing when those words come out.

Sometimes it’s me. Sometimes it’s who I wish I was. Other times it is my past. The rest of the time, it’s characters, whether they’re real or fictional – based on truth or lies or wishes.

I love writing so much because it allows me to travel to all of those places and times, infinitely. But just like the surrealist painters, beware;

not everything you read is real.