Worries 1#

I am starting over. I realised, after one of my essays was called pedantic, that I have been trying so hard to sound eloquent it is beyond annoying. And it really troubled me, because it was true.

I have been keeping this lies about my writing and I keep telling myself that I don't even need to think about what I write, that it comes naturally, and that I don't write about myself, once that sounds so egocentric. But those were obvious, plain lies. I do nothing but writing about myself. In fact, I don't know how to write about anything else.

When I shared with my mother the fact that I was troubled after that statement my mother told me "You're not pedantic, so you can't write pedantic things." , wich was also a plain lie.

At that time I blamed the influences of Oscar Wilde on my complicated and almost meaningless writing. And then I kept comparing myself to my sister, which was what everyone else did, who, on the contrary, writes so simply and so beautifully. And then I realised that it was just because I am actually the one who is extremely simple, therefore my need to compensate with complicated writing, and she, on the other hand, has a very complicated mind, so she puts things simple.

So, with a wounded pride, I am rediscovering myself and facing the fact that, although I fear so much that my words will seem the same as everyone else's, it is something unavoidable.