I put the pen down.
In the middle of my work day, I thought, "Why did I ever stop writing?"
What once was a go-to activity in the evening hours has become pages and pages of words written in my head that I did not want to extend to paper. To have a track record of the past two years would be difficult for me. It's still difficult for me to even think about.
Not to mention the constant deleting of sentences and words while typing out my thoughts and memories. Fear of the wrong placement of a comma or a run-on sentence instead of letting the thoughts flow from my finger tips.
I stopped writing because I didn't like my thoughts becoming permanent. I began to censor so much of who I was so I wouldn't disappoint the people around me. I stopped writing because I wasn't so positive anymore. I got a kick to the gut and the wind knocked out of me. It's still hard to breathe.
I'm going to stop writing. For now.
