Thousands of thoughts run rampant in my mind each day. Some inspiring, some depressing, and many random that fall in between. Over the years I’ve learned not to yield to them, yet I’m still unable to rid them (trust me, I’ve tried). I sought “praying” them away, but that didn’t go as planned. For some reason, I kept feeling the urge to write them down.
So, here we are. I’m a writer — not that I chose to be one, but because I realized I am one. Ready to face my fears, over come this anxiety, and put my thoughts to good use. We writers are our own worst critics: dozens of half-written stories abandoned, tons of notebooks full of poetry too shy to read aloud, months worth of blog posts that should’ve been published as a book, continuously contributing articles to online magazines for free (Come on now, I can’t be the only one).
One thing I can say is that writers always knew they’d be writers. It came natural, forming words across a page, and was somehow exhilarating. Every unexpressed emotion, verbal restriction, painful memory, dreams and ambitions, found freedom when pen touched paper. And once read by someone else, they mysteriously unlocked the confidence and creativity that a mere conversation couldn’t. And that, that is what makes writers take a leap of faith and quit their 9 to 5.
So, as my insomnia sets in, and I type at 1:35 a.m., I encourage you to ask yourself what I’ve been asking myself everyday until now: What’s stopping you?
I’m so glad you’ve came across and read my first (of hopefully many more) posting here on Medium. If you’ve felt motivated, able to relate, or simply liked what I wrote, please click that little “heart” on the bottom, left side! Thank you. Peace and blessings!