It Has Begun. So I've Never Written A Book Before, But Turns Out All That Reading I Did Growing Up Has

It has begun. So I've never written a book before, but turns out all that reading I did growing up has really inspired me to create my own. Also it turns out trauma and crisis offer alot in the ideas department. (not me purging my tormoil and agony into ink).

This is still in the very early stages, the plot is loose and hardly set in stone but I have some (I hope) interesting character arks and themes. I have no idea what I'm doing but this is offering some kind of inner healing, to turn the pain into something else. (make my character go through unspeakable pain, but also make them stronger mentally than I'll ever be. Or not).

An except from it so far. (title is still undecided) named 'Sundial' for now

"Well, what do you see"? Colin looked around, there wasn't anything in particular that jumped out at him, a small grove of tress nestled together, a patch of daisy's freckled white against the green and the blue reached out and up from it. "I see something I don't understand".

I prefer to suffer alone, I know there's the Saying that we fear to die alone and that is true to an extent. But to suffer with others is not something I could bare, I can shoulder my discomfort, I can push against this pain. But sitting with another soul in this torment is a harsher bane. I wish it where slain.

Left alone on that desolate shore, with only sand and sadness to keep me company. A bitter fuel for my agony.

Apathy. What a senseless tragedy. I offer you my empathy I hope it brings you light, a will to live. The strength To fight.

Hope.

It lives in small buds only just blooming.

I promise you there is hope. It lives in you. I swear it's true, it's silent most days but give it a few rays and I swear it will blossom into vibrant colour and happiness.

Lift your weary head to the sky blue and sun red and bask in the heat. I know it feels like a such a feat. I've been there and I know. I'm still there and so I go, to those simple fields, I sit. I watch.

I feel, that hope is never gone only hiding in the throng, of colder times that have had their season for the last time. It's going to be fine.

Sinking, surrounded on all sides by the elements of hurt and stubborn pride.