I want to start writing.

I have a bone in my body I can’t quite explain, but I’ll try.

I want to constantly be creating something. I start something ALL THE TIME.

I barely ever finish.

This probably sounds bizarre… but I’ve always felt a lot of joy in “writing.”

Now, I know that doesn’t sound bizarre. Plenty of people enjoy writing.

But there’s a reason I’ve put it in quotes.

I’m talking about SUPER small things: a well-structured email; a well-crafted text; a solid & well-formatted to-do list.

Don’t even get me started about the era of writing Facebook event; you would’ve lost your mind.

  • The self-prescribed brilliance that oozed out of this brain was outstanding! Informative and hilarious are among the top of things no one people remember.

Anyways, when I’m proud of something I’ve written, I find myself reading it over and over again.

I wonder if that’s a common phenomenon?

There’s a palpable sense of pride I feel.

I read: I smile. I re-read: I feel accomplished. I read one more time: I think “wow, she’s done it again.”

It’s a little psychotic feeling, tbh. And sounding, for sure.

I wouldn’t think it was quite as weird if what I was talking about felt worthy of such a large response. But what I’m talking about is most of the time a little slack message; not a novel!

It’s got me to thinking… it would probably give me GREAT pleasure to write in a more substantial way.

Maybe I will.

With this strong(ish) opinion on writing, you’d think I’d be a bigger reader. I’m not.

That’s something I wish I was! A reader. And that’s TOTALLY attainable. But I just… don’t do it. Like hardly ever.

I don’t do a lot of things.

This, writing, is something I think I want to do.

I watch a lot of documentaries.

Well… that’s being generous. I watch a lot of true crime. Like… a lot, A LOT.

To the point where I wake up on a Sunday morning at 8:15 a.m. and I look for a murder investigation that I haven’t seen.

I compare options across every platform I subscribe to until I find the “right” case (?????). It’s kind of sick.

I’m always shocked to learn how many people keep journals* from all walks of life.

The reason I’m quite surprised is that, in modern society, “journaling” seems to be a “self-help” or “wellness” approach. But that can’t be right. Because, throughout time, it’s always been a fundamental urge that people feel the need to do.

Why is that?

I feel it. I want it. I’m going to** do it.

*Sure fire way to get caught, btw. Or for a sound alibi.

**Going to try to be regular about it bc I like it.