Growing up, I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to write. I loved creative writing. I still do.
Over the years, I’ve seen my work change before my eyes. I’ve come so far. Of course, there’s so much further for me to go.
No matter what I do or don’t do in the years to come, I’ll still make writing a priority. I have no reason to rush the creative process. I can stop and smell the roses. I should enjoy this seemingly endless rollercoaster ride. I have to appreciate the highs as well as the lows.
I don’t know much. I do know that when I don’t write, I don’t feel right.
I wonder what kind of writing I’ll pursue further. Creative or professional? Something in between? Something else entirely? We’ll see.
I don’t want to regret not taking a risk, so I have to try at the very least. I don’t want to ask what if for the rest of my life.
I wish I could do everything, but I can’t. I just try to prioritize writing when possible. I don’t mind sacrificing other things. I’m even fine studying less if that means writing more. I suppose I’ve always seen myself as a writer.