I’m staring at the blank page like I’m eyeing a handsome stranger in a bar. But instead of dancing on my own, I’m writing on my own terms.
From doctors visits to trying to feel better when I don’t quite look better is taking a longer than a summer in Sin City.
They say we cling to what’s important in the darkest moments. In times of strife, I binge on writing, sex, and romance like it’s Netflix.
All roads truly lead back to writing, fighting to get words back on the screen. This is my spiritual practice. It’s like coffee, it needs to be done daily. This is my journey, my legacy, and self-discovery.
I’m recommitting again because I have to be. I don’t want my stories to die in me. This is what I owe to myself. To pursue this career of letters.
I have to get back to writing daily. In the back of Ubers or in the front of buses, on lunch breaks and vacations. I have to.
Reading is also paramount. Let me be guided by the words of men, who have come and gone. Let’s get back to that.
Fuck social media. I find it too distracting. I choose not to be minimized by the little square on Instagram. I don’t owe them anything. But I will continue to blog, log my darkest and lightest truths, chronicled my youth. I’m posting four times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
I’m also focused on my health. Exercising more, going for long walks whenever I’m bored.
I’m eating better — embracing this Vegan lifestyle fully. Transform me into a better version of myself.
And my relationship, that too is important to me. His happiness is also my happiness. Help my boyfriend, best friend and my in case of an emergency person better a better version of himself. We need more dates and exploring new experiences together. He does make me happy. I hope it lasts.
Relationships reveal themselves, friendships fade but the writing remains.