It’s an established fact that I’m an introvert, and I love being alone. Being around other people is exhausting.
I fell in love with writing because I get to be by myself with my own thoughts, even if I’m around other people.
I can get away from the real world for a moment. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have a safe place, a safe space.
Writing sessions re-charge me. They give me so much energy. I gain more confidence to walk into a room like I own it. OK, maybe not. But I’ll always be grateful for stories, both other people’s and my own.
To be completely honest, this year has been so good and so bad, sometimes both at the same time. I’ve fallen in many senses, literally and metaphorically.
Some days, I want to tell myself just how proud I am, but I don’t know if I have the right words. I’m so lucky.
At one point, I kind of resented the fact that life goes on, but now I realize I have to go on.
I’ll be the first to say I’m not perfect. Far from it. But I’m doing my best. And no matter what happens, I’ll keep writing.
I might struggle at times. But I will keep going until I can’t.