When I was younger, all I’ve ever wanted to do was write.
I wanted to be a writer.
I’m good at it. Not to brag or anything. I just know, writing is what I’m good at.
And I pursued it. For a while.
Until life happened.
Before long, so many other things became more important.
Work. Money. Reality.
I lost track. I lost my gift. I lost my passion.
I slowly became a robot. All work. A little play. A little vacation every now and then. But never any passion.
I’ve always seen myself to be the one who lived recklessly, the one who did not care about the world, the one who defied expectations. Unfortunately, I became ordinary. I became just another person who loved work more than life.
Yes, life happened. But I never got to live it.
Instead, I watched it happening, fighting it, making sure I get to be the last one standing at the end.
But that’s not the point of life. Not at all.
In all my efforts of making sure I got out of it unscathed, I wasted precious time. Time I could have spent on things that really made me happy – words, ideas, romance, artistry, inspiration.
But no more. I am not going to watch from the sidelines anymore.
Today is a new day.
I am going to live again. I am going to write again. I am going to challenge everyone around me again.
And I will live. I will cry and laugh and scream and shut up. But most of all, I WILL WRITE.