Cloudhorn

It's been a while since I've been active here. And indeed since I've come back and taken a look at the work that I have posted here I've been mostly cleaning up after myself. I feel now that I didn't put as much work into my writings as I should have when I originally posted them. So atm I'm deleting some really bad stuff and moving other things to the scrapbook, but hopefully I'll be posting new things in the near future, and hopefully I will put my back into it and post stuff that I can look at later and feel proud of. Peace

I've been in China for a little more than two weeks now. It's not that long, not compared to the other travelers I meet, and these travelers often seem to have been to all of Asia before coming to China. They have seen a lot more than I have, and more often than not for a longer time. Today we went to the meat market and looked at the dogs and cats. I don't care much for cats, but they were certainly not enjoying lying ontop of each other in small cages. The dogs seemed mostly like they had stopped caring. They sat packed in their cages waiting to be food. I have a thing for dogs, so I find this really sad, but then again, if we were doing

I noticed some years ago that I can read my own writings a dozen times and still love doing it. I've never written a novel, sure, but if I ever wrote one I somehow think that I would be re-reading my favourite parts of it time and time again and think "I'm so awesome!" all the while. I would most likely have goosebumps too (I've experienced that before while thinking about my own ingenuity). I have slowly learned, over a year or two, that very often I can't make my readers see what I see in the things I write. Once I wrote a short story about a bisexual girl and a gay boy, and my teacher told me "There is a writer in you, but you're not qui