For everyone that came here to find me under my previous penname (L. M), first of all thank you for caring enough to visit this page. I'm sorry for my abrupt withdrawal, and for leaving my readers in the dust. At that moment in time, I just had an ephinany to do so, and so I did, knowing I had been dragging the decision for far too long.
I grew up during my childhood and adolescence as a terribly self-conscious person, who made efforts to avoid social interaction. Unsurprisingly I became extremely lonely. However I found stable companionship in books. Eventually I started to dabble in writing.
Ten years ago I dipped my feet into fanfiction writing. I was in heads over heels with the concept of it, the tinkering of canon and the power to create new worlds all whilst enjoying my favourite characters. And yet I was not able to share my joy with anyone because I never dared to confess my hobby.
I hid this fact for those ten years. My family only vaguely knew, but I shied from any in-depth conversation about it. And even though eventually I did make some online friends from readers, I was still very protective of my craft, and never revealed much.
I was lonely growing up without friends, but I would say honestly say now that writing is my loneliest journey to date. I'm deeply passionate about it. I wake up and sleep thinking about it, I dwell on it on every waking moment. Many times I've struggled with myself and wanted to throw the towel. But the lovely readers always spur me so I push myself a little further. It drags on and on. Writing has consumed my life, and not in a good way. I felt weary and worthless.
I won't disclose what was the ephinany, or the catalyst that made me drop my pen and burn all my stories in one go. Sometimes I feel its a part of my self that I needed to shed, something past overdue. The worst thing of all is I felt absolutely nothing when I did so. As though I had no attachment to these personal works that I poured thousands of hours into planning and writing. I'm still waiting to cry.
I'm not sure if I'm making sense here. Nor am I sure I would ever write a story again. I think one of the things that I'd realize is that I'm a good writer but not necessarily a good storyteller. But I don't have to worry about that now. For the last few days my mind has been empty, or rather, clear. I feel more at peace, and less pressured.
To everyone who enjoyed my works, thank you very much. You're welcome to PM me anytime. Stay safe and love yourself and others.