When a story doesn’t unfold in my brain, it’s a struggle to get it down on paper–or, rather, in ones and zeros. I’m having this issue with Lady Zepherine’s story. She is reluctant to tell her story, and I am having a difficult time writing it. Difficult is putting it mildly. It’s like hammering dull nails into an oak board with a sponge. Yes, that’s impossible.
The hard thing is not writing her story. But I feel like it’s a tortured mess. That’s what editing is for, right?
It’s also tough because parts of her story are so personal to me. Diving into my memories, and interacting with the mean girls and bullies who live there, makes me sad. I wish I had the knowledge that I have now, back then, so I could stand up to them and defend myself instead of ‘taking it’ like I did.
Even now, I try to take the high road and not get pulled down into what I consider trite arguments. The unfortunate side of that is the number of people (who I though were friends) believing the liar and rumor-spreader.
Aren’t you glad that it exposed your false friends? Yes, but it makes for loneliness, too. I wish they had taken the time to find the truth rather than believing the person who had no issues dragging my name through the mud. I hope I haven’t made the same mistake.
I hope I am the friend I wish to be. Sonja
