Writer’s Remorse

I walk, amongst the ever vigilant crowd avoiding their stares, hoping that no one can see behind my mask. I am a mass of seething guilt for those whose lives I have murdered. You may find it strange; I have never caused a heart to cease to beat, yet the minds I have twisted with my words–my poetry, my letters–have withered and shrunk until they became clumps of jellied hatred towards me. In the accidental stringing together of syllables, the very alphabet betrays me. I imagine my prose as uplifting but certain individuals see it as poison. All of it rat-infested, slander-laden, demon-induced, callous-sucking, emotion-fucking sentiments.

I wonder why so many are blind to how screwed in the head I am. How inhumane, unfeeling, insensitive; how insanely vicious and clueless I must be, to shatter the trust in all of humanity in someone. The massive weight of what I have caused threatens to crush me and yet there are people who willingly follow me. Who care. I pity them for what I am bound to do to them.

I wonder why I am permitted to walk, freely, amongst the real humans of the world, when all I am is a writer.

About LindaGHill

There's a writer in here, clawing her way out.

8 comments on “Writer’s Remorse

  1. No! YOU ARE A WRITER! You have the capacity to see into people’s souls and to touch others deeply. A writer is one who can touch and mold and direct. A writer is all things.

    • But in the end, everything is up for interpretation. That’s the point I was trying to make with this… that what one person sees or even means to write can be the exact opposite to what is seen by another or intended.

      Thanks very much for your kind words. 🙂 Much appreciated.

  2. I’m guessing us authors punish ourselves enough to avoid the legal system. Well, most of us.

  3. Well done, Linda! Your post reminds me of a quote by Joan Didion: “That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out” (from the Preface to Slouching Towards Bethlehem). It’s harsh but true. And as you also note, it’s a matter of interpretation. Once you release your work, the readers take over and you no longer have control.

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