.AFTERLIFE. What is it about the edge?

Hello Medium. 
I’ve been feeling connected to this platform ever since I discovered it few years ago, even though I’ve never been an active user. Not even a passive one. I am just naturally vibing with the vision and image of Medium. 
Anyway, today in the morning I got spontaneous stream of need to start writing here. It was good to observe that my mind is wanting to be creative but at the same time I didn’t do anything about it. I probably wouldn’t have done it, never. I would have never started if this was just another day… but it wasn’t.
Damn. 
As I am writing this, my hands are still shaking.
Just 20 minutes ago, driving back home (as I was thinking about some stupid pointless Facebook post..), I got in a car accident that could’ve been fatal. Given the weird and funny character of my life fate the death would’ve been a comic one,of course. Basically I had to avoid a huge fire extinguisher flying right to my window..
don’t need to tell you more. 
Yeah, so back on the point.
Again and again and again, I had to be pushed to a critical life situation so I can take the right action (that is laying in my head anyway, but it only flourishes once life slaps me with a reminder “hey, bitch you’re still alive and that’s for a reason so you better do what you gotta do. 
RIGHT NOW”.

The first things I thought about once I stopped the car was Medium. 
So here I am.
 I’ve been trying to prepare myself for this break point when I will start publishing my writings, and I was such a fool for that. 
Any life experience is proving me clearly that there is no point to try to plan or “prepare myself” for the breakpoint, because it simply never happens like that. For years I’ve been refusing to believe that the power that is deciding THE BREAKPOINTS and when and how to happen is way bigger than my ego, my knowledge and my experience.
Well, that changed. And the most recent breakpoint of my life happened just today, August 11th of 2017. Thanks to it I am here, brought to Medium, shamelessly making my romance with writing public. 
Writing has been my biggest and longest love experience to date, yet right now it feels like a teenage fever. Like the first sex. I don’t know how to do it, but I am sure it will be fine, as long my feeling is sincere and my intention is holy. Like I’m writing my first love letter that I will pour myself into, but the receiver will never get to read it.

My name is Diana, I am coming from Bulgaria
and I turned 23 years old exactly one month ago. 
Nice to meet you random (that are not random at all) readers.

Writing saved my life!

to be continued . . . . .

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