My problems with writing. . .
Sometimes I hate writing, I hate how it makes me think and explore my emotions and insecurities, for when I thought I had a situation figured out, or my feelings conquered the page reveals that I have so much for to learn and do. The rules of writing bother me. I am stuck in the habit of forming sentences. I care too much what you think. I need to learn to write for myself. I am afraid of sounding too dramatic, naive, or sensitive, but isn’t that why we read to see we are not alone. To ditch the facade and connect with others for no other reason other than we are human? To think too hard and feel too much and have someone validate us that we are now reaching more of ourselves than before. For how much of ourselves are we missing if we are ignoring the pieces that do not quite make sense to us. These differences are what distinguish us from one another, the thing which new found friends latch on to. It is a new frontier to feel; a plateau that is constantly shifting, rising, and falling. We must explore the cravsses of this new land. Stand on the highest peak and scream into the void. You are here. You have been called. You are chosen. Make yourself known to the universe. Touch it and let it touch you. Leave no one and nothing unaffected. This is the age of you. This is the age of us.