I don’t know what to write anymore. They say the key to becoming successful at anything is to keep doing it. I keep on writing but I’m not really sure what I’m writing about, or even why I’m doing it. I guess it’s because I want to be heard. Or at least I like the thought of being heard. But who is actually listening?
Several months ago I saw an old classmate I went to elementary and middle school with. We were friends with each other then, but I haven’t seen her since middle school. When I saw her again she asked me if I’m still writing. I guess that’s how she saw me, since I wrote poetry and things a lot back then. I like that she thought I’d still be writing, and that she thought of me as a writer at all.
I did want to be a writer. I still do. A lot of my dream jobs involve writing. I thought about being a journalist. I wanted to be a children’s book writer at one point. I wanted to be a blogger, more specifically a travel photography food blogger. (I mean, obviously I still do blog and I wish I could do more.) I want to make my own zine. I want to work for a magazine company. I want to create. With words, with pictures, with feeling.
But some days I’m not sure about anything. I’m not sure what I really want. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m not sure if my writing is even any good. But that’s not what matters right?
I’ll write to you soon.
Love and all the good things,