I have certain things I want to do in my life; a lot of them involve writing, something I rarely, if ever, do on a consistent day to day basis. So I thought I’d start trying something tonight instead of talking myself out of why I shouldn’t even bother I’m going to try. I’m actually going to try. I don’t want to say “I’m going to try this year!” and set myself up for failure I’m going to say, right now, right here, that today I’m going to commit to write 250 words. I can do that, that’s a small amount, heck I’m over 100 right here. That’s something, and anything is better than nothing. Right? I’m right. I know I’m right about this. I just have to show up and do the work and eventually my confidence will come back, hopefully not the cocky college senior brand of confidence I used to have but some sort of confidence none the less. I used to be good at this; I used to write all the time. I used to know what I wanted to do and I used to actually do it. It feels like so long ago but in the grand scheme of things I suppose it really wasn’t. Granted between graduating from college and now I’ve done a lot of things, and made a lot of people, my children, this life, didn’t exist before now and I’m having a hard time meshing who I was with who I am and who I want to be.
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