You see, writing makes me happy.
No matter what capacity it is, (though I prefer the creative kind) watching words flow across a blank piece of paper is like trying to create a masterpiece. It fills me.
It has become my passion. A passion I am not only embracing, but so thankful for.
Really, it should have come to no surprise. I loved my creative writing English class I took in High School. To this day I write in a journal. Though not as often as once used to. While my sisters may have enjoyed acting and walking down the runway, I was perfectly content to be behind the scenes. To me, creating a piece that was later acted out, sounded a lot better.
While my writing has yet to pay the bills, I have found at times it doesn't need to. Sometimes, just simply knowing I am writing is worthwhile enough for me. And should my writing expand, should I help one person, touch one person with my words, well then I consider it a good day.
Yes, my writing is my passion, it's my desire and joy. It has taken awhile to really come to terms that writing is something I really want to do. What has been so rewarding is finding something that truly makes me happy. Being happy with what you are doing? It makes life so much more enjoyable period.
I have shared my passion in words with you for awhile now and I will continue to do so. Including the latest piece from my creative poetry workshop:
You think they come easy
As though I keep them buried
Between bosoms and straps
And fluffy blue outfits made from fireflies
Oh dear child
Your naivety will catch up to
You think you’re the only one
To have them
Looking to me as if
You expect me to be a miracle worker
I am a busy woman
Do not waste my time making decisions on
Is not always a good thing
Power beauty money they all have a price
Temptation is not spoken of
Be careful you don’t fall trap
To a young girl’s fairytale of
That often fall victim
To adulthood expectations