This is MY Story.

I have always and will always be a writer. Whether I commit anything to paper each day or not, there are always words running through my mind, forming descriptions of what is going on inside my head or in the world around me. It is natural instinct for me to get my release by writing, even if nothing is ever solved.
My problem is that I lose inspiration too quickly, and not long after a story idea forms in my mind, it's dismissed. Aside from writing this blog, I've been suffering from writer's block for a long time. "A long time" being since school started, or around there, and for me that's a long time. Consequently, I've been throwing around the idea of beginning a new story for a week or two, and finally, the other day, the perfect idea came to mind. The general idea, the characters, and the ending were all in my head, and it was pretty good. Which means it was actually pretty good, considering I am harder on myself than anyone else ever is on me. So this idea was turning itself over in my mind, and on Sunday morning, one of my close friends (the only friend I've ever had the courage to share my writing with, in fact), well, she calls me up on my cell phone, and asks if we can hang out. Sure, sure. I don't have a lot of homework. There's nothing better to do. Why not. Come over. Whenever you want.
So we're sitting there talking, her in my dad's office chair in front of the computer, and me cross-legged on my dad's desk. I don't remember what we were talking about, but it must have been something relevant, because I foolishly blurted, "I want to write something new." Or maybe we weren't discussing anything relevant at all, and I just needed to get that idea out into the open for others to consider as well. Whichever situation it is, I said that, and immediately regretted it afterwards.
My friend, she jumps to attention and begins spitting out questions.
"Really? What kind of story? Not a fanfiction?"
No. No, definitely not.
"Oh, well, that's alright, can my name still be the same though?"
I cringed like I had been slapped. I didn't say you were in this story. But of course, I didn't say that. I sat back and listened quietly as she took my idea and ripped it to bits.
"Who's your love interest? Or your love?"
Personally, I thought they were the same thing,
"Your love interest is your boyfriend. You know, who you're with. Your love is just what guy you love. You're not together or anything. I think this person should be your boyfriend. I want a happy ending."
....
It's times like these I wish I had the power to speed up time. Her mother couldn't arrive fast enough.
Dammit, don't you get it?
"Well, my mom is here. I'll write when I get home, and I'll call you later."
NO.
DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND.
THIS IS MY STORY.
I DON'T WANT YOU TOUCHING ANY OF THIS. I JUST WANT YOUR OPINION, AS A FRIEND, AND SOMEONE I'VE NEVER HAD A PROBLEM SHARING MY WRITING WITH.
But of course, I just walked her out the door.
Bye. Yeah, I'll talk to you later.

Thankfully, later that night, I managed to spill, online, that I wanted this story to be mine. So what, I'm selfish. You don't see JK Rowling letting other people write her stories for her.
But now, my friend says, "I'm just going to write my own story. Someone is going to die at the end. It's tragic. So good. Someone's got to die."
Actually, no. No one was planned to die in my story, and the ending tragically works. It works.
I'm happy she backed off, but now I can't seem to get started. She's been pressuring me to give her the details of my story, but I don't frigging want to. How many times do I have to tell you I can't before you stop asking.
Contrary to the childish rhyme, secrets secrets are no fun when you share with everyone.
Or even one single person.