I am stuck. And I know many people my age feel like that. I've written countless drafts but never completed or posted them. I'm ready to be vulnerable and transparent and not hold myself to a schedule. The desire to write has not withered away, but wants to get heard. I wish I could spend every day writing, cooking, learning, and experiencing. Life is hard, and I'm trying my best to be the happiest version of myself.
I long for warmer weather, where the sunlight streams through the big window in my apartment and lights up the couch where I can feel its warmth. I want to write long essays about important topics while my cat sleeps peacefully next to me. I wish for moments that unfortunately make their appearance a few times a year when I'm feeling my best self. The only thing holding me back is the feedback. A big fear, I might add. Being perceived is hard for me, which is why I will try to not hold back on my writing.
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