I have been in such a dark place lately. Nothing seems to make much sense and I am always so disappointed in everything. I know when I get this way that there is something missing in my life, and it’s always the same thing.
I see a lot of writers talk about how writing is their life, how they have to write. I am one of those writers. I keep trying to deny it, thinking I will be okay if I don’t write everyday. But skipping one day leads to skipping two days and so on. Before I know it it has been a month or so since I have written much of anything.
Of course, once a week I write a short story for my prompt challenge, but that just isn’t enough. My soul cries out to be bled by the thousands. A thousand words a week just isn’t enough. I get so caught up in life that I forget about the things that make me happy.
I am the girl who dreams all day, the girl who just can not function in the real world. The only thing that gets me through every day is the fact that I will sit down at my computer and write. I have to write, need to write. There is now want about it (except I want to write too). At some point my love for writing became a need, something that I needed as much as I needed air. And when I didn’t write as much as I needed to write, well, I just fell deeper and deeper into the darkness.
I may not be a published author (traditional nor Self-published) but I am a writer through and through. I will make it there one day and I will finally realize that no matter what I do, no matter what hobbies I pick up, nothing will ever be as satisfying as picking up a pen to write, or tapping away on my keyboard.
The other night I finally started working on a story I had planned out years ago. I don’t know what it is yet, what it’s about, or what is going to happen. All I know is that I am writing and I am finding my happy place again. And no matter what, I must always find time to write.
What makes you happiest in this world of despair?