You know the feeling when you step back into a high school after being graduated for a couple years? That’s the same weird sick feeling I am having currently while writing here. I just assume that this part of being a write is easy. That I can just submit entries online like I submit entries into my journal.
You aren’t reading this. I know this. You have better things to do, I know I do. I am currently writing letters to my best friend. I am also writing a book. You heard me….a book. I finally started it. It only took me about 15 years to finally figure out what was worth writing about. I can’t say though because it’s still brewing.
The life is a “writer” is like voluntarily living in some sort of peril. You constantly feel a little trapped by your words. Always wanting them to be enough and be able to use them to describe your current emotions.
This is short lived, but for now I will be dreaming of walks through Paris with my two best friends. Finding our ways to the Lavender fields where we do nothing but walk and talk about what lead us to this perfect plant.