Write. Write everyday. Write until you don’t know any other way to live your life. Write until you crave the clank of the keys against your fingers. Write until you derive pure pleasure from the fluidity of your thoughts flowing to the page.
Write until you’re free.
That’s just the thing, I don’t feel free. I’m locked inside my own head, so afraid to allow the release of truth explode into reality. If you keep it all in, did it really happen? If you say it out loud, you’re forced to face it. It’s as real as anything now; it has a form, it has an entity.
Allow this to be a confession, a clean slate, in order for me to move forward and really exercise my true potential. I need a cleanse, to tap into my truest form. I’m a writer. I soak up joy from the pen to paper. I need more drive, I need to feel more alive.
I want to start incorporating things in my life that bring me joy, aside from writing. I hope to write about those things. I want to start exercising and getting my body right. i need to apply for jobs but I can only do that once I start fine-turning my craft. I can’t just say I’m a writer; I need to be one .
I need to create some discipline. for too long I have allowed myself to fall victim to instant gratification, often times actions that leave me more miserable in the long run. So make a conscience effort. Be better.
I need to start reading more. I need to be more inspired.