Dear Reader

By Ellie Stokes

Dear reader,

My stories will haunt you, torture you, and twist your mind in unimaginable ways. My writing is fiction, apart from the ones that aren't. You will never know how I wrote my poems, and I will never know how you interpreted them. But I share them nonetheless, for it is the rawness and vulnerability of art that keeps the beauty of this world alive. I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say - it is my lifeline, my buoy out in an ocean that's trying to kill me. As the waves pound me, I bleed out onto paper to try and salvage the wreckage of my mind. My heart bears the weight of a thousand lives, deeper and hurting more than you could ever imagine. My feelings spill from my thoughts onto the keys of my typewriter, cloaking the characters of my life in love and metaphors. I write best when I am falling apart, the broken shards of my heart becoming the canvas for my craft. I write about the silence, the words everyone leaves unsaid, the pain beared only in solace. I write from my heart, my feelings left bare on the page for you to scrutinise. But I don't care, because if one drop of ink from my flaming pen can make even a singular soul feel seen, or heard, or alive, then maybe living in my tortured mind is worth it.

Dear reader,

I must write; because my thoughts are only safe on paper, as pieces of literature. I hope you understand, though, that my soul has shattered more times than you can fathom for my words to become as sharp as they are now. You are, of course, free to judge my art as you wish, but please be gentle with my crumpled heart.

P.S. if you wonder if I'm writing about you, I am.