by Mrs. Hathoway

Created on: July 21, 2010

It is three in the morning, OK three fifty six and I have the itching to write something, I could just be smart about it and write on a sheet of paper. I thought about it for second, then the pain of writing page after page expressing whatever it is that is keeping me awake and then taking all of what I wrote and then tearing it into little pieces and flushing it down the toilet so no one can glue it back together. I needed something more.

I saw in the corner of my eye, the flash of the green light, which in the dark room seemed to be the sun, on my laptop. I agonized over getting up and walking over who knows what to get to it, plug it in and wait for it to start up. As I made my journey I thought about if I wrote it in notepad than someone would find it, I said to myself that I can just say no when the computer asks if I wanted to save it. As my fingers made it's way to notepad it still didn't satisfy my thirst to write. I felt that there has to be more than that blinking line on a blank canvas to all of this. So I went on the Internet, in hopes that my quest would be answered.

My computer at the time was slow and my patience was wasting away at mindless images that poped up as soon as I entered the world wide web. I did what everybody does, check your email, I typed onto my account and to my surprise, nothing. No how to get rich scheme, free pyshic reading or a so called dating agency saying that so random name of a person I don't know wants to met me, no spam, nothing. I went into the search engine and wrote the word writing. Many links and many clicks later, which at this time I could not tell you how I got there because I was randomly clicking on whatever, I came to a writing site.

My eye caught a paragraph written by someone that made me think, how nice it was to write something and it didn't matter what it said it was you getting your feeling across the world, instead of me and getting my thoughts across the toilet bowl. Then my mind was racing, all the emotions you can think of ran threw me. The one emotion that stuck out the most was hate, how I wanted the world to know how much he hurt me, but then I remembered how some of the memories would be to much to handle, how much shame I would feel if someone I knew would know it was me. So when I started to fill out my account so I can let the world know, I was stopped in my tracks when they asked what name would be used as the author. There blinking back at me the line again I typed the first think that came to me, and when I saw it on the screen it made the most sense. It was a name with a title in front of it so it showed that I had age, even though at the time I think I was on eighteen, and the name I choose after it made it seem like I was someone else, someone that even though it was me in the words I could turn around and be someone different. It was perfect.

From then the words started to come out and the only reason why I had to leave this world because the sign of a new day was approaching and when I looked across the room I could see through the window the beginning of a new life and the chance of being someone without having to leave myself. This is why I use a pen name.

Learn more about this author, Mrs. Hathoway.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.