Writing is…..
Well, how do I explain it?
It is my greatest joy and my worst enemy at the same time.
It simultaneously brings me much-needed confidence while filling my stubborn mind with self-doubt. One minute the inspiration is overflowing, and the next I have absolutely nothing to say. Does anyone really care what I have to say? Is anyone even reading this?
Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.
Writing for yourself is an interesting journey. One where you take notice of not only how you are changing as a person, but how your words change with you. A journey where your goals and priorities shift, often recognizable in the shift of your voice.
I love writing, and I want to stretch myself. I want to be challenged. I want to dream big, and see my little name in print occasionally. But, it’s hard to be challenged that way. It’s hard to write with effort when here, the effort is practically nonexistent. Here, I simply sit with my laptop carefully perched on my legs, and the thoughts speak freely. My fingers fly quickly across the keyboard, rarely even stopping to make sure my sentences make sense. Sometimes they probably don’t make sense, and that’s okay.
Because this is where I write for me, and it always will be.







