After a long, soulful, and unnerving discussion with a good friend, I have seen the light. Happiness comes when I write. Since my life seems to be rather mediocre at the moment, I'm apparently not doing enough of the things that make me happy. So this is to be my chronicle of my writing and the myriad emotions that surround it. Let's see if Amy is right about me.
My boyfriend of 3 1/2 years broke up with me. I had made progress: I was journaling and completing writing excercises daily. Not really playing with fiction yet, I want to develop my technique. But he was my support, my first reader, my scheduler...and he's gone. I find myself suffering and unable to write for thoughts of him floating around and blinding me each time I sit to write.
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