Yesterday was such a long day that by 6 pm I was done with it and went to sleep.
It was a wonderful one.
We don’t do this sort of thing.
Just sit, you know?
We also had time to go on a nature hike, which I personally chose because I felt like going on a nice walk with God.
A friend was there and asked to talk and by the end a weight had been lifted.
These are facts though.
When I write, I wonder why I do so. When I was a kid I heard so much to write in a particular fashion because someone might read it one day of you get famous. I think this crippled me in many ways. Instead of writing for me, I wrote for everybody, and anybody who might see secrets.
This isn’t even a maybe idea for me. My so-called-at-the-time best friend when I was under 10, stole my diary. Took it home for a reason that I have no clue over. Her mom brought it back and mi Madre accidently started reading it unconsciously. She later apologized, but it stuck.
“I can’t write how I want because ANYONE could read it.”
Almost 15 years later, and I am finally getting over it though. I have to. I want to be a writer. When I started this blog it was because I needed hope and joy. I started it back up because I needed and outlet. I was depressed and needed to get out of that.
I found way more hope and joy, even light but I continue in the same way athletes continue even after they hit that 5k.
If 100,000 people begin reading this than I need to still do this for me.
So why am I writing?
That story is for tomorrow. I’m still a little tired. 🙂