I love writing. I always have, since I was little. It was more than just the feeling of a pen in my hand and words put to paper. It was also thoughts, emotions, and ideas all wrapped up together. Especially the ideas. I always loved having the ability of creating my own world. Of being able to experience something (such as time travel) without actually being there. And then there is words, and there is words, and there is words. I’m definitely not the best at grammar, but I have always loved learning a new word or phrase.
And yet, the struggle with writing worries me. Sometimes I wonder if this need to communicate and understand, the need to put pen to paper, could it be a blessing or a curse? Everyday is a constant struggle to find the right words, or even the best ideas. ‘How do I write the things that I want to write? How do I say the things that I want to say? What if I mess up? Or what if I write something and no one understand it, (and maybe no one can truly understand me)?’ And the struggle continues…
girl-lost-in-thought 