anti-fairytale / crave

My approach to writing is quite lax. I take advantage of inspiration when it hits, but I won’t push if it stalls somewhere, and sometimes that means having to alter and finish a piece before it was originally meant to end. I see it as another creative challenge—finding ways to wrap something up so that it feels complete on its own.

This happens a lot, especially when the subject matter gets personal.

I have a tendency to cradle my heartbreaks and drown in it, partly because it’s the only way I know how to heal but also because it affords me the time to find evidence of all the beauty that can be extracted from a feeling that’s agonizing in every conceivable way. Anti-Fairytale was supposed to be about deconstructing such a relationship and weaving these familiar references (of the Disney variety) to culminate in an ending that was the antithesis of a fairytale.

And yet, that’s not what happened. As with most things I write, I somehow cling to the best parts and shine a light on them. Heartbreak sucks, and while I’m of the opinion that it’s a critical element of the human condition, it’s more important to me that I can and still choose to see the good in someone and whatever it was I cultivated with them, even if the crash was brutally ugly.