This morning, I realized I hadn't written for almost 2 weeks. How did time fly by? My writing practice is such a part of me, of my life. How did I let it go?
The problem is life. Life gets in the way. Family. Work. Health. School. All the projects on my plate.
I want to be the me I'm meant to be. The person I see in my mind's eye. The future me. The writer.
I know, I'm already a writer, but I want more. I see more for myself.
Yet, I am also happy that no matter what life brings, I have my first book published and the second one on the way. I'm documenting my life. Memorializing it all. That's what matters. That I was here.