Not because I enjoy it. But because if I don’t, I will die.
Like I expounded on before, writing is not a particularly enjoyable activity. But not doing it, and feeling the guilt gnaw at me, day after day, is killing me slowly. I am dying a slow death by not writing.
I am inspired by many things and people, as I’m sure many people are.
I am inspired by Belle from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (cartoon version), leaving a shop with a basket full of books. I always imagined myself leaving a quaint antique-looking bookshop with a recyclable…
As I walked to the clinic on a late Monday morning, thinking how this is the fifth visit to the doctors in 2016 alone, a record-breaking figure because I never had taken more than 3–4 medical leave in a year in my 8 years of working in this company. And now it is just a little passed mid-year.