Sometimes I become frustrated when I sit down to write. I want the words to pour out of me but they decide whether or not this will happen. Often, I cannot find a topic I want to write about, other times I have a topic but the words simply don’t flow. It is like sometimes writing rules me yet it is a love that I know feeds my soul.

Sometimes I will sit down to write about one thing and the finished piece reflects something completely different to what I had intended and I have learned that this is part of the process.

Sometimes the struggle is real and I have to force myself to find the time, force myself to endure the blank screen in front of me as my fingers wait to hit the keys on my laptop.

Sometimes I am happy with what I have written, other times I haven’t been able to capture the exact point I was hoping to.

Sometimes people will ask me what I write about, a question I always struggle to answer. It can’t be categorised, it simply is what it is.

Sometimes writing gives me a new lease of enthusiasm for what is possible in life and the opportunities that may await you.

Sometimes writing harbors my secrets and insecurities, my fears and my losses, my hopes and my dreams.

Writing walks beside me like a friend, behind me like a shadow and in front of me like a guide.

Writing offers me solace and strength.

Writing feeds my soul..










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