Food Storyist.

Here, I am asking myself whether I write honestly.

I used to write downright because I thought it was only for me. I just blurted out real me through the text. That made a rough article and somewhat useless things like jokes, happening, and a wisp of thinking. But, at least I was very happy with it, since I could express my anger, hatred, disappointment, depression, suppression, jealousy, deadly feeling and more like that. It was flooded with my emotions without considerate thought. But I could be totally being myself.

I don’t know straight forward because I think there are viewers around me. I can’t scribble, nor tell my secrecy from my heart. It produced accurate and well-arranged articles, and they satisfy me admiring masterpieces. but sympathetically, I am not as much delighted as I used to be. Writing started to burden me, requiring more sophisticated pieces. Adding more decorative words, advanced english vocabulary, it gets off the point. My feelings are all buried, confined by phony adjectives that I invented. The way I do at the moment.

I don’t want to write fabrication or fiction, that I never intend. I am eager to jot down my sincere thought and bare heart. But, I know, in terms of quality, it’s important to elaborate writings for making it more valuable. So, from now onward, I swear that I will blow my heart into my writing and only improve necessary parts within extent of not harming or contorting real meaning.

(Also, I need to improve my english to illustrate myself more specifically and precisely.)